


The Lev n Fax Saga

by LuxDeorum



Series: Personal Demons Verse [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angels, Character Death, Demons, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Shit gets complicated, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-02-15 09:50:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 70,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13028499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuxDeorum/pseuds/LuxDeorum
Summary: Demons aren't supposed to be kind, but angels aren't supposed to be cowards, either. Somehow, Levant, the shyest of angels, and Fairfax, a dreamer born in hell, find happiness together. They hoped this could be simple, but being what they are, nothing is ever that easy. When the pressure rises, Levant has to decide whether he’ll stick by his unorthodox choices, or let love go in favor of safety.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ongoing series/saga/whathaveyou on my [tumblr](http://lux-scriptum.tumblr.com/), and I desperately needed a way to organize all the pieces, especially the times I flit back into the past to cover things that didn't happen in the main storyline. The tag for graphic violence doesn't apply until later on.

It was hard to have dignity when his every breath rattled in his throat. It was hard to have dignity as he tried - and failed - to convince himself to push himself further than his hands and knees. It was hard, but Fax clung to what was left of his dignity anyway, assessing every ache and cut and burn that littered his form. It could be worse. Then again, he noted distantly, he  _ was _ shaking pretty badly. That didn't bode well. 

He gave a hoarse laugh then, and watched his blood drip to the floor. Nothing about this boded well. He shoved himself up, finally. This whole thing was made all the worse by the fact that his emotions were slowly splitting him apart, tearing savagely through the last scrap of self control he had. Still on his knees, he met the emerald gaze of the angel before him through his dirty blonde bangs. He’d have done something about the hair in his face, but that would take more control over himself than he had.

The silence stretched for eons, fragile and tense, but neither of them broke it, easy as it would have been. Behind this stern angel, he could see Lev skulking. He knew every subtle movement, knew oh so intimately how Lev was tucking scraps of shadow around himself, as if that would hide him from Fax’s gaze. Fax knew him. Saw him. He would always see him.

Fax could remember whispering those very words to Lev, late at night. He’d pressed the words to the angel’s shoulder with a kiss. Had promised them as he stroked Lev’s cheek, wiped away tears of frustration and hopelessness. “I see you,” he'd said, and then swore that one day others would as well.

Oh, Lev.

The memory was a punch to the gut, a flicker of rage in his chest. Fax felt the tension in the room change. The angel before him - not his Lev - stepped forward. “Well, demon.” Behind this angel, Lev flinched, the wisps of darkness tightening around him. Little things, nothing anyone else would have noticed, but Fax saw. Something acidic writhed in his stomach, and he couldn't tell if it was grief or anger or something else entirely. 

“Well, demon,” the angel said again, voice a purr, the words smug. Fax slowly fixed his attention back on the angel’s face. Beautiful, as all angels were, in the ethereal sort of way many celestial beings had. “This is quite the situation we have. It's very rare indeed we find one of your kind so settled among humans.”

Fax wanted to land a punch right between those perfect, glittering green eyes. He wanted to spit out the words eating at him, that demons didn't often live on earth like he did because of angels like the one before him, but instead he choked them back, swallowing them with difficulty. He’d had this conversation before, or something similar enough, with Lev.

Another memory that had the weight of a brick hit him. Him spilling every damn dream he’d ever had, about living without fear of angels breathing down his neck, about no longer fearing for his life every time he went to the grocery, about feeling free to live as if he had a right to. He remembered Lev’s enthusiastic response, and, worse than that, he remembered the joy of being  _ known,  _ of having someone standing at his side. He hadn't thought something as stupid as them walking up to heaven holding hands would be possible, but he had hoped they could carve out some sort-

Something knocked into him from behind, jarring him from those memories. He barely snapped his hands out in time to catch himself. The snarled order to respond to the green eyed bastard in front of him only registered on the simplest of levels. He had the strength to get up, but doing anything was a challenge simply because every impulse told him to curl up and never move again. Lev had promised. Lev had believed. Lev had... 

Lev had made a fool out of him. He swallowed hard. Lev had let him go on and on, had listened to his hopes and dreams and had held him and told him to keep on dreaming, to keep searching for that bright future. Fax had talked, and confessed, and spilled everything at the angel’s feet. Fax had loved and raged and whispered to Lev and Lev had taken it all. Fax should have known better than to believe an angel, but he had wanted to. He had wanted to believe so badly.

“Levant, are you quite sure about this demon?” The green eyed angel’s question seemed to drag Lev forward like a fish on a hook, the darkness melting away to expose the familiar features. Fax couldn't keep his eyes off him, even if Lev’s golden gaze wouldn't quite meet Fax’s. 

_ I see you _ .

The green eyed angel was still talking. “I see no sign of real power. Is it possible he lied to you about his rank?” Behind him he could hear the third angel moving restlessly as Fax began to laugh again, the sound weak and breathless. Power didn't equate rank in hell. Not as much as they seemed to think. Fax had power, but he didn't have the ruthlessness to be any sort of leader among the leaders of hell. Or he hadn't thought he had it in him. As he stared at Lev, willing the angel to look at him, just once, just  _ once _ , he began to reconsider just how ruthless he could be.

Lev was stumbling through some excuse or other. That was familiar too. The words were slamming into each other, tumbling together like pebbles at the bottom of a too fast river, and Lev’s hands were beginning to flutter as he flushed, desperate to help express whatever it was he was trying to say. Fax’s heart twisted in his chest, and he reached to touch the hand nearest him.

Lev stilled, and finally, finally, he looked at Fax. The world froze for a heartbeat, and they stared, and stared. And then the moment was gone. Lev jerked from Fax as if burned. His golden eyes were so wide Fax could see the whites, and Fax could swear he could see Lev’s pulse against the skin of his neck. 

It was an backhanded slap from that damned green eyed angel that struck Fax this time, catching him by surprise. Compared to the rest of what he'd been through this evening, it was nothing, but this hurt so much more, because it cut him to his soul. Lev wasn't his to comfort anymore, and the forgetting of that was worse than the actual fact.

He didn't care what they were saying. Whatever came next didn't matter. His family might mourn him, but only if they ever found out. He so rarely went back to hell. He liked his quiet and peace. It had been Lev, for months, that had broken up his routine, and while he hadn't been unhappy before Lev, he didn't want to go back now. What right had Lev to waltz into his quiet life and upend it? What right had Lev to breathe life into old, dusty dreams, and then let them shatter at their feet with one cowardly choice? They had been too vibrant, and Lev had shied away, like he was right now.

A kernel of anger started in his stomach, and it was only a kernel he needed. He was tired, and he was grieving, but he had enough strength for this. He pulled himself to his feet then, each movement slow and deliberate. The angels had stopped talking, and all three pairs of eyes were now on him. It was really a pity, he thought, that they chose such a small room to do this in. It took less than a stride to reach the green eyed angel, and Fax didn't flinch away from pressing his hand over the angel’s mouth. There was rage there, but shock too. They thought him broken, and he was, but not in the way they wanted. “I'm really tired of hearing your voice.” The words came out quick and clipped, as he played for time he didn't have.

The flames that crawled down the angel’s throat would ensure he never spoke again.

It was over in heartbeats, and then he stumbled back, his power thrumming in his veins after slumbering so long. He almost closed his eyes, almost let the gnawing ache swamp him until he hit his knees again, but Lev’s horse voice croaked out desperately, “Fairfax-”

Fax twisted. He didn't have the control for finesse this time as he thrust his hands forward. His fire burned golden and wild, the heat of it almost scorching him. Careful, careful, he needed to be careful, or else burn down the building they had dragged him into-

Oh, but it was a little late for that. He gazed at the flames numbly as he lowered his hands. His power still hummed and purred, wanting more, always more, but he was tired, tired in his soul. He didn't move, just watched the burning angel before him until he remembered the last one.

He turned slowly, disregarding all else as he stared Lev down. Lev backed up, bottom lip quivering as he sucked in a panicked breath. “Fax,” he pleaded.

“You lied to me,” Fax said. He took a step closer. “You let me believe you loved me.”

“I did- I do.” The words were half a sob.

Fax shook his head. “You watched as-”

“Fax, I couldn't- They-”

“Levant, enough.” Fax could barely hear himself over the fire that burned around them, over the fire that burned in his heart. Lev had ripped his heart to pieces, but Fax was determined to burn the remnants to ash. Ash couldn't be put back together. Ash couldn't be broken a second time.

“Fax, please.” 

Fax watched the tears slide down Lev’s face, and this time he did not reach for the angel. A thousand memories flickered through him as he closed the last bit of distance between them. A thousand moments and soft touches, a thousand gentle words and promises. Well, let them stay memories, then, and nothing more. 

“Please,” Lev whispered.

“Stop begging.” Fax meant the words to come out harsh, acidic, like the holy water angels used oh so gleefully. Instead it came out weary. “You could have killed me the day you found me, and instead you played with me.” Lev opened his mouth, so Fax leaned close and covered that mouth with his hand. The contact was better than letting Lev interrupt. Lev stiffened, but didn't shove him away.  “I'm not going to kill you.” Lev gave a small sob against his hand, trembling with relief. Fax hated it. “I want you to live with what you did, and I want you to know I'm still walking this earth, same as you. You told me that you thought I was right to hope for a better world. You told me that what I was born as meant nothing. Lev, I thought you saw me.”

Lev’s hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling it down, and a jolt went through him. If the room around them hadn't been on fire, if he hadn't ached all over, if he didn't still have blood leaking down his temple, he might have been able to imagine Lev was about to tug him close. “Fax, I'm-”

“You lied to me. I won't forget that.” Fax jerked away, and headed for the door with slow, painful steps. Power, he might have, but energy, he did not. He paused only to add, “I see you, Lev, clearer than ever. And you disgust me.”


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath, and the consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to update this Friday but I had my laptop up and running, so I figured why waste the chance to post? Part Three will be up by next weekend ^-^

Lev’s knees threatened to buckle beneath him. Fax was gone, long gone, and the air around him was thick with smoke, enough to choke him, flames twisting and leaping around him, not a single shadow to wrap around himself, and yet he couldn't bring himself to move. All the fires of hell couldn't have convinced him to take even a single step. 

He deserved it, to be burnt to a crisp, he really did. There was no reason for his coward’s heart to keep beating. In the back of his mind, he knew he was being melodramatic, but really, wasn't it poetic to be consumed by the fire Fax had started?

A hand fisted in his shirt, and he was dragged out of the building by the scruff of his neck. He wheezed and choked as he was dropped on the ground. Gentle hands rubbed between his singed wings, and he curled up, coughing too hard to demand why they had pulled him from the blaze. He knew his rescuer was an angel like him because he could feel the icy healing spearing through him. It was the familiar murmurings of his old mentor that sent shame rippling through him. Of course it would be him that had hauled Lev out of the fire. Another person he’d disappointed. The moment he had the strength he knocked his mentor off him. He didn't want help. Didn't deserve it.

Through his wheezing he could hear others, shouted orders back and forth and demanding questions about other survivors. But there weren't any. Fax had made sure of that. He'd never seen Fax like that. He had always known the demon had a sort of quiet strength, but Fax was a dreamer, not a killer. And yet two angels were dead and Lev had no idea what to tell his superiors.

The thing was, none of this had been approved. He simply hadn't known how to stop it all, how to stop the two angels who had caught him on his way to see Fax. His fault, for being such a bad liar, his fault for not doing more to protect Fax. Fax had always been a gentle soul, something that had fascinated Lev, who had been raised to think all demons were savage brutes who attacked first and in number. That hadn't fit Fax at all. Fax, who wandered around the kitchen in sweatpants humming along with the radio, who happily planted himself in the garden and poked around in the dirt as if he knew what he was doing, who somehow attracted cats left and right and fed them all. Fax had never once lifted a hand to harm him; Fax had been incredibly gentle, and when he kissed Lev that first time, the shyness in the gesture had startled Lev more than the kiss itself. Fax had been so prepared for Lev to shove him away, and in the end, wasn't that what Lev had done?

All at once Lev found himself sobbing, which really didn't help the whole breathing thing. He could hear a sigh, and then he heard his mentor murmur, “He’s young. Give him space.” But Lev didn't want to be babied. He wanted... he wanted Fax, but that wasn't an option now was it? No, not after how horribly he'd screwed this up. He shoved himself up, gasping and hating the mess he was. This was pitiful, it was stupid, and all he could think of was Fax promising that crying was fine, that it didn't make him weak, but...

The angels let him stagger further from the burning building, too busy trying to see if any others had survived to watch him go. Only, he didn't stop when the air cleared. He kept going, sucking in fresh air and swiping at his face. He was going to regret this, just walking away with no explanation, but no one stopped him, and he didn't want to think about anything right now. It occurred to him, as he decided maybe he just wouldn't stop walking, ever, that he was being melodramatic again. Well, he thought defensively, he had every right to be dramatic. He'd just been through a shitty, shitty evening, and he had no idea how else he was supposed to react.

He walked and walked and walked, shoulders tensed. He ought to go back. He needed to spin some sort of story, but instead he walked, occasionally choking on a random sob, constantly rubbing his face. Pitiful, pitiful, how he was falling apart, but nothing was happening the way he needed it to. The way he'd wanted it to. He'd been happy, not days ago. Happy, and curled up with Fax. Fax’s heartbeat beneath his ear had been the most comforting, grounding thing he’d ever heard. He hadn't ever wanted to leave.

_ I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry _

Fax deserved better than what Lev had given him, and the hurt on the demon's face when Lev had jerked away from his touch -  _ too slow, they’ll  _ **_know_ ** \- had knocked the breath from Lev. Hurt, and betrayal, and anger. All of those emotions had been foreign on Fax’s face, and hadn't sat well, like he was unused to them, to the weight those emotions carried. Like they were crushing him. Lev couldn't explain, couldn't tell him how suspicious the two angels already were. It was a weak, cowardly decision, to not take the blame right away. He could have told them the truth; it would have ended with him wingless and cast out, but he could have had a home to go to. Instead he continued to bury his head in the sand. Only he'd dug and dug until he couldn't get out of the hole, and he was still digging, with every step he took away from that burning building. Too many questions he couldn't answer, certainly not now that he had all but fled the scene. 

He should have done better, should have protected Fax. His mind kept circling back to that thought. He was an angel. He was a warrior, yes, but to fight evil, to protect the innocent, and Fax was innocent. Fax was not evil. Fax was the farthest thing Lev could think of from a horrible person, and Lev had broken him.

It shouldn’t have surprised him where his feet had taken him. He’d always felt safe at Fax’s, and that's where he’d gone. He stared at Fax’s house. The door was partially open, and the smooth wood was familiar under his fingers as he pushed it open further. One of Fax’s cats, a cheerful black and white tom, sat a few feet from the door, as if waiting. Lev grimaced faintly, and the cat padded away, tail high. 

The sound of retching reached Lev then, and he followed it automatically to the bathroom. He paused in the doorway, hovering. Fax didn't even look up from where he hunched over the toilet. Lev hesitated, before he stepped forward, reached for Fax.

That caught Fax’s attention, and he flinched. Lev’s mouth tightened, but he pressed his hand to Fax’s shoulder anyway, his healing searching, fixing, even when Fax tried to shake him off. Lev didn’t back away until Fax was done retching, though he easily finished repairing whatever damage the angels had done before then.  

Fax’s gaze was haunted when he finally looked up. “What are you doing here?” 

Lev swallowed, taking in the flushed, tearstained face - _ I did that-  _ and clenched his fists at his side. “I'm sorr-”

“Don't. I can't hear it. Don't lie to me, not again.” Fax was pleading, begging, still half curled on the floor. Lev trembled, fought back his tears - as if he deserved to cry anyway - and dropped to his knees in front of Fax. Fax flinched. “Levant, don't.”

Lev reached out anyway, and brushed his fingers over Fax’s cheek. “I am, though. I am. I should have-”

“Don't touch me.” Fax shoved to his feet, flushed the toilet, and pushed past. Lev stared at the floor, breath catching. He deserved that, but still, it hurt. He listened to the sink running as he stared at the floor. This was all wrong. All of it. 

Lev forced himself to stand, to follow Fax when the demon left the room. He was here now. The least he could do was try and make this right. “Fax, are you okay?” Well, that was a stupid question, bad enough that he winced. “I mean, are you-”

Fax whirled on him. “No I'm not okay. I've never- what I did-” he already looked a little green again. It clicked then, why he'd been in the bathroom. Fax went on, trying hard to get the words out. “That's not me. I would never- I just wanted to go home, Lev, and I- I  _ killed _ -”

This was such a strange concept to Lev, who had been trained to kill demons,  _ had _ killed them. It was just being part of an angel. But Fax, Fax seemed ready to be sick again at the thought of killing an angel, even after what they'd done to him. “Fax,” he whispered. The sound was half strangled. “Fax, its okay. You did what you had to, and-”

“I had no right to take someone's life,” Fax snarled, before flinching back. Like his own anger horrified him, Lev thought, and reached out again. Fax drew back again. “Stop it, Lev. Just stop. Go home. Go back to your kind. I was wrong to think this would work.” Lev tried to speak, but Fax cut him off. “Not because you are an angel, but because you are a coward.”

Lev jerked at that. Sure, he had thought those words, but to hear them coming from Fax cut deep. “I didn't want this,” he said. “I wanted-” But the words caught in his throat.

After the silence stretched, Fax shook his head. “Yeah. I wanted too, Lev. We wanted, but wanting doesn't mean it'll happen.” Fax ran a hand through his hair, only to ruffle it and send it right back into his face. “Lev I can't... I can't do this again. I can't spend the rest of my life wondering when you're going to crumple under the stress and stab me in the back again.” 

Lev looked away. They were fair statements, and not unexpected; Fax was honest and he was hurt. He had every right to be.

“Exactly like that, Lev,” Fax said softly. “You can't even look me in the eye. What are you going to do when the pressure is coming from your superiors again?”

“Fax, please.” Lev forced himself to look up. He hated the tremble in his voice. “You deserved better, I know you do. But I can't- I can't leave things like this. I know I hurt you-”

Fax barked out a laugh. “Hurt me? You destroyed me, Lev. You ripped me apart, and spat on the pieces. That hurt worse than anything your friends could have done.” His hands were shaking this time as he ran them through his hair again. Lev’s throat ached. He’d never seen Fax so agitated; his every movement was jerky, abrupt, even when they were small.

“They weren't my friends,” Lev protested. Fax shot him a look that nearly made him shut up and leave then and there. He steeled himself, and went on quietly, “They were higher ranked than me, that's all. And I couldn't... I couldn't lie, it didn't come out right, and I was stupid, but I... I'd hoped- I don't know what I thought, Fax. I was scared, and stupid. Did I mention stupid?” 

He swallowed another please. He sounded desperate. He  _ was _ desperate. The space between them was barely a foot, but it felt like miles, and all he wanted to do was yank Fax to him and never ever let go. Instead he stood there, waiting for some sign that Fax would forgive him. He was always waiting, never willing to be the one to make the first move. 

Fax didn't say anything, though. He made Lev wait and wait and wait. “I can't,” he finally said. “I can't wait for you to change your mind, and leave me at the tender mercy of your kind.”

“I already gave up that option,” Lev said quietly. When Fax’s brows furrowed, he admitted, “I might as well have given up my wings when I took off after you. Going back isn't an option.” And then it hit him, how guilt-trippy that sounded, and he hurried to add, “I knew and I don't care, I just wanted to... I mean I care, but- I couldn't just leave you. And I would have anyway, lost my wings, if I hadn't come, because I can't lie, I suck at it. It's what got us in this situation in the first place, because they caught me coming down here to you, and I couldn't think of a good enough lie, and the half truth was damning enough, and-” Lev gave a half wave of his hand, almost smacking himself in the face. 

There was a hollowness to Fax’s face, a deep hurt that shone in his eyes, and yet he still reached out to grab Lev’s flailing hand. The understanding in his expression, even tinged by sadness as it was, hurt Lev worse than anything Fax had said. Lev thought he might burst into tears then, but Fax’s touch had always instilled a sort of calm in him. He squeezed Fax’s hand fiercely, pleading silently in a way he didn't know to put into words.

The next thing he knew, he was being enveloped in Fax’s arms. He buried his face in the demon’s shoulder, taking a steadying breath as he clung to Fax. “I'm sorry,” he said, voice small. “I'm sorry, and I wish I could take it back.”

Fax pulled away, and frowned at him. It was a small expression, but enough that the little dimple in one cheek deepened. He reached up, swiping away the tear sliding down Lev’s face with a thumb before saying quietly, “I'm not ready to forgive you yet.” Lev watched something like guilt in his frown.  _ Fax _ , he thought wearily,  _ what have I done to you? _

“I understand,” was what he said out loud. He pressed a hand to Fax’s chest, felt the steady thump of Fax’s heart under his fingers. Fax didn't move. That steady grey gaze never wavered, not until Lev forced himself to say, “You should go. They’ll come for me eventually. It's... it's safer for you to find somewhere else to stay. I shouldn't have... I’ve led them right to your home again.”

Fax looked like he would argue, before just shaking his head. Lev dared to reach out and brush the hair from his face. Fax blinked, stilling. Then he leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to Lev’s forehead. “I make no promises,” Fax whispered. “You hurt me, unintentional or not, and I don't think I could survive another night like tonight.” Lev closed his eyes, gave a nod. He understood. “I hope they show you mercy. It's more than they would do for me.” Lev sucked in a breath at Fax’s words, but by the time he made himself open his eyes, Fax was gone. 

A cold ache settled in Lev’s chest, and he sank down on the couch. For once, the growing darkness didn't bring comfort. Lev lowered his head, covering his face with his hands as one of Fax’s many cats hopped up beside him. The little tabby settled herself against his hip and began grooming, as if nothing was wrong. And, for her, likely nothing was.

He was still sitting there, immobile as stone, when the angels came for him.


	3. Interlude: Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These are the first two times Lev n Fax meet. Their first meeting was originally a fill of [this prompt](http://gingerly-writing.tumblr.com/post/163604459719/prompt-359).

He was one of those boys who subsisted solely on cigarette smoke and shattered dreams. That hadn’t been the plan, but the world around him was callous and unforgiving. Dreams didn’t last long in hell, although they weren’t exactly scorned. They simply didn’t thrive down there. Fax lived with this, letting those dreams grow and reach and, eventually, over extend and shatter. They kept him going, even the shattered ones, because for all they were broken, they still held hope. It worked out well enough, even if it left him feeling hollow. That was okay, too, though. The smoke filled the empty spaces, wreathing through his ribs, curling around his heart, clinging to his hair.

Even when he left, seeking the sunlight on earth, the smoke followed. It stuck to him, crawling along his skin, permeating his clothes. Fitting, really, as a being of fire who refused to combust.

And the dreams? Well, they never really got restored to their former glory, though the pieces were there, gathering dust. He was okay with that, though. He had made his peace with the faded grayscale that was his life. It had a certain aesthetic to it, like it matched the smoke that had become a part of him.

Living in earth was everything he could ask for. As a relatively powerful demon, he could look very human when he wanted. He passed, and he found that settling into a job, a house, a life, was easy. It was comfortable, and lazy, and he found, for the first time in a long time, that he was content. Grayscale or not, this was his life, and he had built it. It was comforting, to have somewhere to go home to, a porch to sit on and watch the sunrise, a garden to plant flowers and vegetables and whatever else he felt like. And, well, when a sleek grey cat decided that his porch was his, and then later, his house too, Fax couldn’t say no. The cat fit, anyway, as grey as the rest of his life, and comforting in that regard. Only, one day, there wasn’t one cat, but two, a silver tabby with flat blue eyes. By the next month, he was up to four. Well, he reflected, as long as they don’t trample his garden he didn't mind, not really. Besides. They liked to sleep around him when he crashed on the couch, and it was hard to feel anything but comfortable when he had four purring beasts surrounding him.

 

He had been on earth for many years the day he was finally discovered by an angel. It was his own lax guard that let the angel find him at the supermarket one day. He should have been more attune to his surroundings, but he’d been too wrapped up in the many cans of cat food he was juggling (he was up to seven cats, though he didn’t remember inviting any of them.) He’d only noticed when he felt a pair of eyes on his back as he went looking for his car. When he’d turned to see who was watching, all he’d caught was a glimpse of pearl grey wings, and dark hair.

The hard thump of the cans swinging into his leg in their bag reminded him he needed to go. He cast several glances over his shoulder as he set the bag in the passenger seat, but nothing was out of the ordinary anymore. Right. He let out a breath, and headed home. The cats seemed delighted to see him, but that might just be because he promptly fed them.

When he stepped out onto the porch later that night, the sky was covered with clouds, not a star in sight, and too thick for even the moon to shine through. The air was heavy, promising a storm, and somehow, that stirred the dust covered dreams in his chest. He knew better than to let that last, though, and instead pulled out a cigarette. He didn’t need a lighter, and soon the smell of smoke wreathed the air. Better, he thought, letting the smoke settle in his lungs, press against his his ribs, and slither through the air around him when he expelled it. The smoke was a part of him now as much as the aching, dusty hope, and he felt better for being surrounded by it.

It was another week before he saw the angel again. Fax was working in his garden, a particularly chubby tabby curled beside him. This time the angel was easy to spot. Mostly because he was lurking at the edges of Fax’s yard, frowning in Fax’s direction. Fax stilled. He took the chance to take in details while the angel approached. Short dark hair that was cropped almost severely short, and dark smudges under what had to be the brightest gold eyes Fax had ever seen. The grey wings were almost murky, as if wreathed in shadow, letting Fax know that they wouldn’t be visible to human eye.

The angel stopped a few feet away, still frowning. He didn’t speak. The waiting could only stretch so long before Fax grew tired. “You’re trespassing,” he said mildly.

The angel jerked, sucking in a breath. The response, “I’m sorry,” seemed to be automatic. And then the tips of his ears went pink. A strange angel indeed.

“Can I help you?” Fax asked, as if his heart wasn’t pounding. Why was the angel alone? Why hadn’t he attacked? He pulled out a cigarette, nudging the cat at his side until it grumbled and padded off. Only then did he light the cigarette

The angel stared. And stared some more. Shadows seemed to wind around him, a subtle sort of thing, but Fax squinted at him and refused to look away. “What kind of demon are you?” the angel finally demanded.

Fax sucked in a breath of smoke, let it settle and soothe him, and then replied calmly, “A domestic one.” He hadn’t moved from where he was kneeling in the dirt, hoping it would calm the angel somewhat.

“That doesn’t… that doesn’t make any sense,” the angel spluttered, his voice pitching high. “Demons don’t-”

“How would you know? I doubt you’ve stopped to chat with demons you meet any more than I discuss the weather with angels I run into.” Fax was determined to keep his voice level, polite, bland. Grey. It was better that way. Safer.

He expected anger, but the angel just gave a soft, “Oh.” A blink. The angel swallowed. And then he blurted, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Fax stood, and he knew the angel tensed. It was a surprise to see they were right about eye level. Not that Fax was staring. The angel seemed convinced Fax would lunge at any given moment. All Fax did, though, was take a final drag on the cigarette - the smoke seemed heavier, but that was okay; it was grounding - before he dropped it and squished it under his shoe. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go feed my cats. It was a pleasure meeting you…” He trailed off.

“Levant. Lev,” the angel supplied, looking a little lost. Fax smiled, surprised it came so easily, and backed up a step.  
“Good day, Lev.”

He turned to go, and made it up the steps of the porch before he heard the rustle of someone moving. A hand grabbed his, the touch brief, and cut short, but enough that he turned. The shadows had pulled taut over the angel’s features, highlighting the dark marks under his eyes, but Fax could see this was a natural reaction to a startling amount of anxiety that seemed to be all but choking the angel. A skittish thing, this one. Fax waited patiently.

“I don’t know your name.”

The angel’s words startled him. He knew it showed. Still, he pulled himself together, and said with a small smile, “You can call me Fax.”

“Fax,” the angel repeated, his gaze intense.

“Yes,” Fax agreed, his smile widening indulgently. “Lev, I really ought to-”

“Right, right,” the angel muttered, looking a little dazed. He backed off, and the shadows tightened around him with every step as he walked away. Fax watched him go until he rounded the corner at the end of the street. Only then did he retreat inside, where he leaned against the door and closed his eyes. The taste of smoke lingered in his mouth, but in his mind, golden light danced among the dust that covered his old, forgotten dreams.

* * *

Lev chewed on his bottom lip, and tried not to feel like a stalker. It was just a demon, that was all. It wasn't like he was following an angel or anything. It was just that demon he’d seen at the store. The demon who had... had smiled at him, and had been far too polite. By any rights he should have attacked, and instead he’d talked, and then he’d gone inside. He’d shown Lev his back, as if he’d had no problem with being vulnerable with an angel.

The lack of fear confused Lev just as much as the gentle politeness. He’d never met a demon who wasn't scared of him, though that might have been that he’d never met a demon he hadn't had orders to kill.

He chewed on his lip some more as he watched the demon making his way down the dairy aisle. Well, he hadn't been lying about being a domestic demon. His life was so very simple, and Lev was almost jealous of it. Lev had yet to figure out what Fax’s job was, but he did have a set schedule. And he went to bed _early_. Lev couldn't wrap his head around it, how human this demon seemed. He gardened, he played with his ungodly amount of cats, and he spent his evenings on his porch smoking until he went to bed.

Lev blinked when he realized he’d lost the demon. Anxiety rose in his chest, and this time when he bit his lip he tasted blood. He turned around to go, deciding that it was best to come back another day before he dragged attention to himself.

As he rounded the corner of the aisle he all but bounced off Fax himself. Lev had a heartbeat to panic before he blurted out a slew of half formed apologies, the words tangling with each other as he backed up a step.

“Hey, hey. Calm down,” Fax soothed, reaching out with his free hand to grab Lev’ wrist lightly. “It's okay. What are you doing, following me around like that?”

Lev was lightheaded, and he was pretty sure it was because he was hyperventilating. He licked his lips, any number of lies and excuses coming to mind. He knew he couldn't make any of them sound believable, though, so he admitted, “I wanted to understand. Why...”

Fax smiled a little. “Why I'm not going on murderous rampages?” He let go of Lev’s wrist. Lev felt oddly bereft without the demon’s hand. “I'm not sure what they teach you angels, but I can assure you, I just prefer earth to hell, is all.”

Lev stared. He didn't understand, not really. Demons were violent, angry creatures who would gladly trap and kill a lone angel. They had no sense of honor, and Lev had always been told that no demon would be benevolent. And yet.

And yet, Fax stood here, gaze steady and a little basket of groceries on his arm, looking concerned of all things while Lev tried not to fall back into his instinctive panic mode.

“I still don't...” Lev tried.

Fax considered him for a moment, and then said, “Then let me explain. I just need to pay for this, and then I have nothing else to do today.” When Lev didn't answer, Fax added gently, “There's a park, about half a mile down the road. Lots of people around this time of day, if that makes you more comfortable.”

Lev nodded, started to bite his lip, and then winced. “Yeah, I... Yeah.” He waved a hand. “I can meet you there.”

“Give me fifteen minutes,” Fax said, stepping away so Lev could pass. “I don't have any perishables this week, so this shouldn't take long.”

Lev nodded again, too busy trying to stuff down his anxiety to say anything else. He shouldn't be doing this. He should be telling his superiors that he’d found a demon on earth, not agreeing to meet him at the park. But he just scooted past Fax, and all but bolted for the door instead.

The park wasn't too busy; he could see families playing, but it was distant enough that the noise wasn't overwhelming. If it had been, Lev might have ended up with his head between his knees. As it was, he had his forearms braced on his thighs as he stared at the ground. The whole situation was stupid and dangerous. Every moment he sat here without _telling_ anyone who was better equipped to deal with a demon powerful enough to look so utterly human was practically treason.

He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice that Fax had shown up until the demon settled beside him on the bench. “Sorry I'm late,” Fax said, handing an icecream cone to Lev. “I thought this might make up for it.”

Lev hadn't even noticed Fax had been late. He took the ice cream from Fax automatically, and then stared at it numbly. Should he be suspicious? He wasn't, but he was worried about what that meant. Could Fax be some sort of telepath? Or empath?

“I didn't poison it, I promise. You just looked like you could use something sweet.” Fax gave his own ice cream a lick. “Do you always look like you might faint, or am I that terrifying?”

“It's me. People make me nervous. Demons make me nervous. To be honest, angels make me nervous.” Lev frowned at his cone, and told himself it was safe. Or was it? “Everything makes me nervous. My mentor says I'll probably grow out of it.” He snapped his mouth shut, face growing hot. He was a bit old to still be so reliant on his mentor, and he really didn't need to be talking about his mentor to a complete stranger, and a demon as well!

“Well. You don't have anything to fear from me,” Fax assured him. “I live on earth because I find it peaceful in a way hell isn't  I'm not here to cause trouble. I promise.”

What was the word of a demon worth? Any angel would say absolutely nothing, but Lev found himself believing anyway. Enough to start eating the ice cream the demon had handed him.

“I thought... demons liked chaos,” he said eventually. “Why-” His cheeks heated again. There was no need to be quite that blunt, and he worried he had insulted Fax.

Fax just laughed. “Hell is chaos because that is all it’s allowed to be. Power and intelligence is valued, but you have to prove that you are, constantly. I didn't want that. I didn't want to be always talking politics and defending from angels.” Fax shrugged. “I only ever wanted sunlight and quiet.”

Lev blinked. “Was fighting your only option?”

“No. We aren't barbaric, Lev. There's pressure, sure, but I could have easily found another life for myself down there. I simply didn't want it. I like it up here.” Fax nodded at the park around them. “Wouldn't you?” He paused. “Or... is heaven really the paradise they say it is?”

Lev shrugged. “For the human souls who live there, it is.” He focused on his ice cream and tried not to feel like a traitor to his kind as he admitted, “For the angels it's mostly cities. Or for angels who fight like me, we live in the barracks. Which really are just hallways and hallways of apartments, but...” He shrugged. “The cities are more open than the barracks. Even then they aren't quite like... this.” Lev glanced around. “Its so... vibrant here.”

“You see my point?” Fax nudged him with his knee. “It's no paradise on earth, but I'm happy.”

“Happy,” Lev repeated.

“Yeah, happy. Haven't you heard of it? Even angels can be happy, right?” Fax had been grinning, but his expression faltered when Lev just stared. “Are you happy, Levant?”

“I... don't know,” Lev admitted. “I guess.”

“You guess?” Fax’s smile was a little sad this time. “Usually people are a bit more certain on if they're happy or not.”

“Oh.” Lev winced. “I'm sorry.”

Fax snorted. “You don't have to be.” He glanced at his phone, and then added, “I should probably go.”

“Oh,” Lev said again, unsure of what he should say to that.

“You know where I live. If you ever want to stop by, I can... I can show you more of what I do down here.” Fax shrugged. “Show you what I consider happy.”

“Okay,” Lev said, uncertain. He shouldn't be agreeing to this, but he couldn't help it. When Fax smiled, a bright expression, something in Lev’s chest eased, and Fax’s brief touch to his wrist before he stood made his breath catch in a way that wasn't tied to his anxiety.

“See you around Lev. Don't let your ice cream melt,” Fax advised, and then he was walking away.

Lev stared after him, saying far too late, “See you around.” He knew he wasn't going to be telling anyone about this. Angels were meant to protect, and defend, and something in Lev’s heart told him, quite firmly, that Fax was something that needed that protection.


	4. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the... aftermath, and how they dealt with the fallout.

Fax came back once. Just once. It had been a few days after he’d walked out - _ fled,  _ his mind supplied unhelpfully - and he’d been worried about his cats. There were ways for the cats to get out, go find food, but that didn't mean they  _ would _ . But when he’d gotten there, Lev had been on the couch, hands braced between his knees while an older angel stood there talking to him. Fax would have expected Lev to be hiding in the shadows, but his features had been uncharacteristically open. Open, and full of pain. He only got a glimpse before the older angel shifted his weight, and his broad form effectively hid Lev from sight. Fax hadn't wanted to know more, but it was hard to step away from his own window. At least he knew the cats were being taken care of, because at least three of them had been sprawled around Lev, or draped across one of his feet.

He’d had to force himself back up, turn around, and walk away again. There was no point in being mad at Lev for staying in his house. He knew what that house meant to Levant. It was safety, and peace, and Fax had worked hard to keep it that way. 

Fax wasn't mad about much of anything anymore. The burning rage had faded to nothing but smoke. It was always smoke with Fax, wasn't it? The fire never lasted. Everything burned too fierce, too quick-

He’d caught himself then, and then had to laugh. He sounded like Lev, making everything sound so much more dramatic than it was. His laughter had quickly faded, though, and he had continued on in silence. Best not to think of that.

True to form, it took less than a week for a cat to attach itself to Fax, despite how Fax was on the move constantly. The cat was a small, sleek little thing, black as night, and with bright gold eyes. He’d taken one look at it, and decided if it was willing to follow him for ten blocks despite clearly starving and not needing to waste energy like that, the least he could do was feed it. And, of course, that meant it refused to leave at all.

He didn't mind, not really.

Fax spent three and a half months wandering. Somewhere during that time, he picked up smoking again, though he was careful to do so away from the little cat who had claimed him. It was a comfort, that was all. He needed something more than a cat to keep him grounded, and he didn't have Lev to lean on anymore. It reminded him of the time before Lev, how the smoke had settled into him, becoming a part of him, and yet it was a sharp contrast to his time with Lev. He hadn't needed cigarettes then. And the world had become a hell of a lot less foggy then. Everything had substance, when he was with Lev, and he'd liked it. Lev had made things worth paying attention to. Or easier to let himself pay attention, instead of fighting it. Something like that.

Eventually, though, even a cat - who had discovered it very much liked riding in the hood of his jacket, or perched on his shoulder - or smoking, or wandering, all of it, wasn't enough to keep Fax from being drawn home. Because it was home, because it was his, something he'd spent decades building. Angels be damned, he’d carved himself a place in this world, and he missed it.

It was hard to ignore the fact that every step towards home made it easier to breathe but he tried valiantly anyway.

And yet, despite his determination to go back home, he still hesitated once he got there. He held back for two days, even after the first night, when he saw Lev sitting on his porch swing, cat in lap, and gaze vacant. It took Fax a solid moment for it to hit him that Lev didn't have his wings visible. That didn't really mean anything; angels could make them disappear from sight, and on earth Lev tended to stay in his human's for for simplicity's sake. Still, not seeing them had been jarring, especially remembering what Lev had said the night all this had gone to shit.

It hadn't been enough to go any closer. And so Fax had retreated - it was  _ not _ running away - until the next morning. He tried not to feel like a creeper as he peered through the window -  _ his _ window, dammit - and saw Lev asleep on the couch in sweatpants. Nothing but, and his exposed back made Fax’s thoughts slam to a stop. It was a mess of scarring, still new, and while Lev had cats all around him, on his head, even, they all seemed to stay away from his back. Like they knew to avoid it. 

Fax braced his hands on the window sill, and tried to remember how to breathe. He didn't move, not even when Lev shifted, lifting his head and dislodging the cat that had been sleeping there. The calico tumbled gracefully onto the armrest of the couch, and perched there with an indignant mew Fax couldn't hear.  _ He let his hair grow out, _ Fax thought distantly, all but pressing his nose to the window. Lev blinked at the creature, but didn't move. Fax knew it took him a couple moments to fully wake. He knew because he'd spent many mornings waiting patiently for Lev’s sleepy gaze to focus so he could get Lev out of bed. 

The calico didn't seem as willing to be patient, because it reached out and tapped Lev’s nose with a paw, and a second time for good measure when Lev didn't react quick enough. Lev pushed himself up then, dislodging the rest of the furry creatures from around and on top of him. Fax didn't have to be inside to know how many protested that. 

In other words, almost all of them had.

Lev was moving further into the house, likely to the kitchen. Fax knew the routine intimately. Warm milk and honey instead of coffee - the angel had never learned to like coffee, and so Fax had found something else for him to have in the mornings - and probably toast because Lev usually let Fax do the more difficult breakfasts. Difficult being anything more extravagant than scrambled eggs.

Fax pried his hands from the windowsill and winced at the scorch marks there. He ought to have better control than that. It was automatic to cross to his front porch, and it was natural to push the door open silently. A few of the cats trotted over, purring their greetings, but Fax moved deeper into the house, following Lev. When he paused in the doorway of the kitchen, he was met again with the sight of Lev’s back. It looked worse up close, and Fax found himself at a loss of what to say. The last thing he’d said to Lev was a hope that the angels would show mercy. He shouldn't have expected that they would. 

He must have made some sort of sound, because Lev turned from the stove, then. The angel’s eyes were round. Neither of them spoke at first. Of course not. Lev never made the first move. 

“You've moved on from trespassing to breaking and entering, huh?” Fax blurted finally.

That made Lev blink. Instead of answering, he whispered, “I saw you. I saw you last night.” A shaky breath escaped the angel, and then he added, “Do you want me to go?”

Fax nearly choked on the harsh no that threatened to burst from him, but he had himself under control better than that. Lev didn't need more harshness in his life. He shook his head instead, and rocked forward a step. Lev stilled completely. 

“They... your wings, Lev,” Fax finally said, his voice cracking. That was the wrong thing to say, because Lev’s face crumpled.  _ Lev _ . “They have no right- that's  _ barbaric _ .”

“I knew, when I stayed, what would happen. Angels aren't allowed to... to love demons.” Lev’s voice wavered, but he tucked his chin to his chest and plowed on. “I... after what I did, I had to... I had to buy you time to get away. And I deserved it anyhow. I should have protected you in the first place.”

“ _ Lev _ ,” Fax breathed, reaching for him. Lev came willingly, and closed his eyes as Fax brushed his cheek. “I don't care what you did, you didn't deserve  _ that _ .”

The sound that came from Lev was close to a whimper, and then he was lunging forward to bury his face in Fax’s neck. Fax wasn't sure where to put his arms, and eventually settled his hands on Lev’s waist. Murmuring consoling words was second nature, as was reaching up to run his fingers through Lev’s hair.

Lev pulled back, but stayed close. “You smell like cigarettes again.” He gave a frown, and then a wan smile. “And of course you got another cat,” he murmured, wiping at his eyes. Fax huffed out a sound that was  _ supposed  _ to be a laugh, and reached up to grab the kitten that was trying to climb from his hood to his shoulder. He bent to set the kitten down, and when he straightened, Lev had taken a step back again. 

“It's okay,” Fax tried. When that didn't get much of a response, he hurried to clarify, “That you stayed here. Its okay. I'm glad someone was here to take care of the cats.”

“You and your cats,” Lev said fondly, before turning away to fuss over the stove. “I made too much, like usual. Do you want some?” Fax didn't answer, too busy staring at Lev’s back. Lev turned slightly, and frowned. For the second time that morning his expression crumpled, but he was obviously trying to pull himself together. “I... I can go put on a shirt. I didn't expect anyone, so I...” He swallowed. “I don't like cloth on my back, is all, but I can-”

“Don't,” Fax protested softly. “I shouldn't have been staring. Yes, I'd like some.” He moved to grab a couple of mugs and spoons, and handed them off to Lev. Lev managed a smile, and worked in silence as Fax retreated to the table. Logically, he had every right to still be upset, and hurt, and... and he was, but not enough to do anything other than wrap his hands around the mug Lev pushed into his hands. Lev automatically settled beside him, and then froze.

“I’m- I'm sorry, I should have asked-” 

Fax touched Lev’s wrist lightly before he could stand. “Hey. ‘S okay. I want you here.” And if the light of hope in Lev’s eyes was painful, well, it was a pain Fax could live with. Fax shifted to lace his fingers with Lev’s, and squeezed gently. “I want you to stay, as long as you want. As long as you need. We’ll... we’ll figure it all out, one way or another.” Because he knew Lev, and this Lev was different. Just as afraid, to be sure, but maybe a little less skittish than before. 

“I love you,” Lev said seriously. “I never stopped. But if you don't anymore, I  _ get _ it. And you don't have to pretend. I know what I did, and I know-”

“Hey. No. Lev, I see you. Flaws and all. I see you, and I love you, and I told you. We’ll figure this out again. One step at a time. Whatever it takes.”

Lev’s mouth trembled, but he didn't cry. “I don't deserve you,” he said.

“You deserve better than this.” Fax gestured to Lev’s back and tried not to wince at the angel’s flinch. “And even if you hurt me before, you deserve better than what I can offer. I'm not... I'm not okay with what you did, but I'm not going to hold it against you forever. You were scared, and I get that, and...” He trailed off, unsure of how to continue. Eventually he just lifted their joined hands, and pressed a kiss to the back of Lev’s.

Lev gave a small sigh. His head dropped onto Fax’s shoulder. “Okay,” he whispered. “We’ll figure it out.” Something tight in Fax’s chest eased when Lev added, “For what it's worth, I see you too, Fax. Always.”


	5. Interlude: Fax and Sorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Fax's cousin, Sorin. This is a glimpse into Fax's life long before Lev came into the picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first one of these, like the other Interlude, was originally a fill for a [prompt](http://gingerly-writing.tumblr.com/post/167061095407/prompt-528).

Fax wandered the bowels of hell. It wasn’t his favorite spot, but it was quiet, if a bit chilly. One hand ran along the rough hewn walls, sparks dancing on his fingers to light his way. He could have found a light to bring with him, but he hadn’t thought of it when he’d slipped away. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do.

Behind him, he heard the scrape of footsteps. He’d been aware of someone following him for several minutes now, knew they sped up when he did, slowed when he slowed, though they were not good enough to catch his sudden stutter step. He heard a familiar scuffing as the person tried to echo that stuttler. A smile crossed his face. He knew exactly who that was.

He let his fire flare, bright enough to light up the entire hallway. The footsteps sped up abruptly, and a weight slammed into him from behind, enough that his fire winked out. The dark of the stone hallway was illuminated in brief flashes of blue-white and gold for a moment. There was a short scuffle before the sound of someone hitting the wall. Silence reigned for a moment, and then Fax gave a low laugh. “You’re getting better, Sorin.”

Sorin released him, backing up. “You knew it was me?” He demanded, huffing. He let his flames wink into existence, the whitish flame lighting the corridor.

“Of course I knew it was you. Do you think I let just anyone push me up against the wall?” Fax gave him a fond smile. It was a familiar game for them, though normally Fax would have put up more of a fight.

Fax lifted his own hand, cupping it as his golden flame sprang into existence. The light of both flickered in Sorin’s blue eyes, making them seem seem brighter than usual against the darkness around them. Sorin didn’t return the expression.

“What do you mean, let me?” Sorin demanded. His cheeks flushed, and he clenched his fist, making his fire vanish. “I-”

“You still don’t know how to walk quietly, Sorin.” Fax reached over and ruffled Sorin’s strawberry gold curls. Sorin huffed, and ducked away, patting them back down. Fair enough, Fax admitted, seeing as Sorin had shot up a solid two inches in the past year, and finally surpassed Fax. He probably didn’t appreciate the hair ruffling anymore.

“I’ll get you next time,” Sorin grumbled. “And don’t go easy on me. I want to beat you because I’m better. Not because you let me.”

“Yeah, sure, Sor.” Fax grinned. “Whatever you say.”

“Don’t call me that. It sounds like I’m a boil or something.” Sorin’s nose wrinkled as he shoved at Fax.

Fax snorted and nudged him back. This too was familiar territory, and they quickly ended up in another scuffle, the light going out as they wrestled. Eventually they stilled, Fax on top and pinning Sorin to the hard ground with his knees as he illuminated the hallway again. “I mean, would you rather Rin-rin. Rinnie? Sunshine?” Fax said, moving off before Sorin had the chance to push him. He settled against the wall, legs crossed, and leaned his head back.

“No, you butt. Call me by my name.” Sorin settled beside him, shoulder to shoulder. At least Fax had that. All Sorin’s height was in the leg, really. “Besides, you’re more sunshine than I am.”

“Butt. Very mature.” Fax resisted the urge to ruffle his cousin’s hair again, mindful of his earlier reaction. “I’m hardly sunshine. Hair’s not gold enough. Your sister, on the other hand…”

“I meant personality wise, you goof. Honestly. It’s like standing next to the sun when I’m in the room with you. Too bright sometimes, but everyone knows you’re there. And even when you’re not, you’re there. They’ve got their eyes on you. You’re going to be something, Fax.” Sorin’s tone was serious for once, no laughter, no frustration, nothing but a grave flatness to it. “Everyone knows it.”

“I don’t want to be. I wish they’d stop. I’m not looking to prove myself. I can’t breathe down here, Sorin. I don’t want to stay here forever, and I don’t want the power they expect me to take. I don’t want to take anything.” Fax sighed, and closed his eyes.

“I don’t believe you sometimes,” Sorin said, before his body tensed. That was all the warning Fax got before Sorin shoved him. Fax grunted, rolled and slammed his cousin back to the ground.

“If you’re gonna do a sneak attack don’t tense up when you’re sitting right next to me.”

“I’ll beat you one day,” Sorin shot back. “Just you wait.” He let Fax tug him to his feet.

“I’m sure you will, Sor. I’m sure you will.”

 

* * *

 

Fax was packing the last of his things, his final trip back and forth between hell and earth. It was mostly knicknacks and odds and ends he’d missed on the other trips, and also a chance to kiss his mother goodbye one last time. She wasn’t happy to see him go, but he didn’t regret this decision. He already felt lighter just having begun to move out. If his father didn’t approve, well that was his father’s problem, not Fax’s.

The house he’d chosen was small, two bedrooms and a living room that was half part of the kitchen. The yard was big, both in the front and the back, though, and Fax already thought he might want to plant a garden. He wanted to see things grow. He wanted to see things reach for the sun like he did every time he stepped foot up there. He would miss his family, especially the ones who refused to come see him up there, and avoiding the notice of angels wouldn’t be exactly easy, but he was willing to trade that for the feeling of suffocation down here any day.

He heard Sorin before he saw him, a familiar pounding of over enthusiastic feet and harsh breaths before the younger demon skidded into the room, all but ramming his shoulder into the doorway, blue eyes wide. “What do you mean you’re leaving?” He demanded breathlessly.

It had been a good five years since he’d last seen Sorin, and Sorin had grown again. He had to have at least four inches on Fax by now. His curls had been cut short, and there were faint shadows under his eyes. He’d been working too hard, most likely. Fax felt a pang of guilt that they’d both let their friendship slide over the years, but time to a demon was skewed, and Sorin was busy all the time. Sorin would be something someday, Fax knew. He had that edge that Fax never would, and a fierce determination that Fax knew would take him far.

“I’m moving to earth, not the moon. You can come see me whenever you want,” Fax promised, twisting his hand around the handle of his duffel bag. “Gives you a chance to get out of hell, anyway. Away from the pressure.”

“I don’t need to get away. That’s you. I like it here. It challenges me to be better.” Sorin’s face twisted, and he rocked back a step before settling back in the doorway.

“The offer is still there, Sor, whenever you need. Or want. There’s plenty to see up there, Sor. It’s so much more than it could ever be down here.” Fax couldn’t help it. Even he could hear the note of tired wistfulness to his tone.

Sorin pressed his lips together, and then said in a half-strangled voice, “You’re leaving. You have everything down here. You could have status, or, or, or power. People respect you, Fax. How could you leave that? How could you leave-” Sorin broke off, sparks flickering around his clenched fist. He looked like he was being choked by the words caught in his throat.

“Hey, hey. No, I’m not…” But Fax was leaving his cousin. They both knew it. He was walking away from everything in hell, rather than deal with the stupid politics. He had to, or else be smothered, and he didn’t know how to explain to Sorin his decision in a way Sorin would understand. For all he was fond of his cousin, they didn’t think the same way. Fax doubted they ever would.

“You are. You’re leaving. Like a damn coward. I thought you were better than this. You were supposed to stay. You were supposed to stay, and I was going to prove I can be every bit as good as you. Better. You weren’t supposed to quit on me. You weren’t supposed to leave me.”

Guilt tore through Fax again, hot as a forest fire. He really hadn’t thought about how this would affect Sorin. He hadn’t considered his cousin at all in this decision. He should have, or at least given more warning. Maybe then Sorin wouldn’t be standing in his doorway, shaking and pale and half ready to combust.

“I’m sorry, Sorin. I should have told you sooner. I didn’t think, I just wanted to get out before someone made me change my mind. That’s on me.”

“Damn right it is,” Sorin said hotly, but his voice trembled, and no matter how hard he tried his mouth wouldn’t stop wobbling.

Fax let his duffle bag drop gently to the floor, and crossed the room so he could pull Sorin into a hug. For a long moment, Sorin was stiff, arms stubbornly at his side. Eventually, though, he grabbed onto Fax, fingers digging into Fax’s back harshly.

“You can come visit me. Whenever, day or night. Rain or shine. For whatever reason, okay? I don’t care. If you need a break, if you need to talk, if you want to show me how far you’ve come. I don’t care. My door is always open to you, Sorin. I’m not running away from you, I promise,” Fax said, and swallowed hard.

“You’re leaving,” Sorin said, voice muffled. “I can’t believe you’re walking away.”

“This isn’t the place for me,” Fax reminded him. “I was never happy here. I’m hoping I find happiness up there.”

“You don’t find happiness, Fax. You carve it out of life and you take it whenever you need it.”

Fax pulled away, rubbing his hand over Sorin’s head even without the curls to ruffle. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Sor, but I can’t believe that. Maybe when I find it you’ll believe me.”

For once Sorin didn’t bat his hand away, though Fax didn’t linger either. “You’re not going to last long up there,” Sorin said instead.

“I think I’ll manage. You want to help me with this last little bit? That way you know where I am.” Fax backed up, stooping to grab his bag. When he looked up, Sorin had an unreadable look on his face. “You don’t have to, Sor.”

Sorin’s mouth twitched down, before his shoulders slumped. “Yeah. I’ll come. Least I’ll know where to go when I finally get good enough to kick your ass.”

“I wait for the day, Sor. Probably won’t be much longer, the way you train.” Fax gave him a grin, and, after a long moment, Sorin offered a weak echo of the expression. “Come on. You can get that bag by the door. That’s all that’s left.” Sorin grumbled under his breath, but grabbed the bag, spun on his heel, and stalked out. Fax moved to follow, pausing in the doorway. He glanced back at the bare room. There was nothing, not even a pang of regret. If anything, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders as he shut the door and headed home, back to the sunlight.


	6. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Communication is key, and avoiding it only causes problems

It was a conversation several weeks in the making. By all rights they ought to have had it the first night. Instead they had finished their milk in silence, and then gone to bed. Neither had wanted to ruin the tenuous peace they had, curled together with foreheads touching and legs tangled like nothing was wrong.

They’d fallen asleep easily, too easy, as if they hadn't wanted to think about it. The next morning had been awkward, at first, but they'd settled into a tense sort of mockery of their usual mornings. It had gotten easier, but Fax continued to hesitate instead of his usual absent touches, and Lev had never really been one to initiate.

If not that first night, they should have said something in the morning. The tense, halting interactions should have been sign enough for them to be spurred into talking, but instead, the bit their tongues and let the brittle air around them ease into something else. It wasn't _better_ exactly, just more a half step off balance instead of a completely off kilter.

The first time they almost, almost, had the talk that had been brewing was actually that second night. They'd lain in the dark, listening to each other breathe, and _feeling_ that disconnect with every moment that passed.  

Fax, for once, couldn't go to sleep, and Lev, for once, had been the one to suggest they turn in early. It was all off, but was it really? It was such a little thing. And so Lev had crawled into bed, and Fax had followed, and Lev had stretched out, face hidden in the pillow, and Fax had stayed sitting up, trying not to stare at Lev’s back. He’d failed at that, and eventually he’d failed at keeping his hands to himself too. Lev had flinched, at the first touch, a full body hitch that made them both freeze. Lev had wanted to ask then, but all he’d done was burrow deeper into the pillow, and then deliberately relaxed. And so Lev had fallen asleep while Fax ran his fingers along Lev’s back, memorizing every inch of the scarring. It felt a little like a punishment for them both, and still they didn't say anything.

The second chance had later that night. Or maybe it was early in the morning. Unable to sleep, Fax had finally slid out of bed, and stepped outside. He pretended that his hands weren't shaking as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a single tap of his finger. He’d leaned against the porch railing, as if clinging to that would give him stability. He’d called Lev a coward, all those weeks ago, and Lev had turned around and done _this_ for him. Lev, who panicked over paper cuts, and cried when one of the kittens nicked him with their claws. And no, it didn't... fix the fact that Lev had led to all of that pain, but Lev should never have felt like he needed to let this happen to him. He should have run, like Fax had expected him to.

Lev had woken the moment Fax had left, and though it had taken him several minutes to work up the courage, he’d followed Fax outside. Fax either hadn't heard him, or hadn't wanted to say anything, because he didn't turn around from where he leaned against the porch railing, cigarette burning, but not once taking a drag. Lev had meant to say something, he really had, because it _hurt_ to see the tension in Fax’s shoulders. In the end Lev had only walked forward and wrapped his arms around Fax’s chest. He could feel Fax’s tension ease away as he buried his nose in the back of Fax’s neck. They stood like that for a long time, breathing in each others’ presence.

Lev had wanted to ask about the cigarettes. Fax hadn't smoked any while they were together, not since Lev had halfway moved in with him all those months ago. Had it really ben a year? Maybe longer. Things blurred, and Lev no longer knew.

Questions burned on the tip of Lev’s tongue, but Fax turned around, cigarette spent, long before Lev had worked up the courage to speak, and so they’d gone unanswered as Fax pressed a chaste kiss to Lev’s forehead. That had been enough to halt any questions where they were. So instead, Lev had whispered, “Come back to bed. Please?”

Fax could never say no to that please. Not for the first time, Fax thought that that please might just kill him one day. He didn't protest that night as Lev pulled him back to bed. They fell asleep together again, clinging, thoughts a jumble and hearts aching.

After that it had felt like too many questions would make the fragile peace they had would shatter. And so they’d danced around anything remotely complicated, for weeks. Half the time Lev would wake up as dawn approached, and find Fax’s side empty, already up and making breakfast. Lev figured out the first time that it was only to make breakfast, but an inexplicable wave of guilt, so heavy it was hard to breathe, always drove Lev to get out of bed before Fax could bring it to him. It was a shift in their usual morning routine, but Lev made sure to stay in the kitchen and watch, as if that made things different, better, more normal.

It killed him that Fax didn't sing along with the radio anymore.

Fax wondered if he did something wrong, that Lev didn't want him to make him breakfast in bed anymore.

As much as they settled into a routine, something swelled between them, becoming more solid each day they ignored it, until one night, Fax didn't wait for dawn to come to roll out of bed.

This time he didn't head outside, but instead settled on the couch, shoulders hunched, and head low as he let himself get overwhelmed. Nothing felt right anymore, and he had to wonder if staying was the right thing after all. He'd wanted to do right by Lev,to be the support Lev so desperately needed.

Instead this wall slowly pushing them apart was making him feel further from Lev than ever, even when they were tangled together in bed asleep.

A tear slid down the bridge of his nose. He let let fall without trying to wipe it away. He didn't want to let that _thing_ between them keep growing. If he did, he might lose Lev for real, and he couldn't bear that. And something told him that Lev might not survive it either. But them hanging on each other like this if it was that bad wasn't healthy either. So what was he supposed to do?

Lev found him there a few minutes later. Fax didn't look up, but he leaned into Lev when the angel wrapped his arms around Fax. They sat in silence like that for a long while, and the entire time, Fax let himself cry, just a bit, breath shaky and throat tight.

“I love you,” Lev whispered into Fax’s shoulder.

Fax sniffed, and twisted to press his cheek to Lev’s hair. “Is that going to be enough?”

Lev flinched back, breath catching. Fax knew he’d said the wrong thing, or at least shouldn't have stopped there, because Lev started to get up. The way his face crumpled tore at Fax’s heart.

“No. Hey, no,” Fax said, grabbing for Lev’s wrist. “Don't go. I'm not- that wasn't a rejection. I promise. I love you too. But this -us - isn't working. Can't you feel it?” When Lev only stared at him, he tugged until Lev sat down beside him. “Lev I can't keep doing this. Tell me you know what I mean.”

Lev swallowed, and looked down. He ran his fingers along Fax’s arm, tracing the veins, and pretended he wasn't stalling. “I know. I feel it too.” His hand stilled as he looked up. “Fax, I- I can go, if you want. You don't have to pity me, alright? I'm not the first angel to lose their wings, and- and- I hate feeling like I'm holding you back. I know you're unhappy.”

“I don't want you to go. I want you to stay. But not if it keeps hurting you like this. I can see it, every time you look at me. You flinch. Lev, you flinch, and I don't want to be added to the list of things that scare you.” The tears were back, falling too fast for Fax to stop. “I said awful, awful things to you that night, and I hurt you in the best way I knew how, and now half the time you can't look at me.”

Lev’s gaze dropped, and then he dragged his eyes back up to Fax’s. “You don't scare me. But losing you does. I don't care that you hurt me. I deserved every word you said. But I don't... I can't stand the thought of you staying out of some overblown sense of duty. If you're going to stay, I want you to stay because you love me and you _want_ to, not because you have to.”

Fax stared at him. This was getting nowhere, and he didn't want to go in circles all night. The longer he stared, the longer he thought, the more ridiculous this became.

He started to laugh, the sound half hysterical. “Lev.” He took the angel’s face in his hands. “Lev, I'm not staying out of pity. Why would you think-”

His next laugh was more helpless than anything, and he pressed their foreheads together. “Lev. I swear to you that I'm not here out of pity. I stayed because I love you, and because staying away hurt. Goodness but this is a mess.”

“You’re not... staying because you feel like you have to?” Lev asked, a thin note of hope to his words.

“Well. I do feel like I have to, but not out of pity.” Fax closed his eyes. He wouldn't say this conversation was ridiculous (in fact he recognized it was important, and that they should have had it far sooner) but the situation that led to it certainly was.

Lev swiped at Fax’s cheeks. “I'm sorry. I should have-”

“No more blame. Alright?” Fax kept his eyes shut as he took a deep breath. “It’ll never stop if we keep blaming ourselves and each other.”

Lev waited a long moment before he consented. “Alright,” he said softly. They sat like that for another heartbeat, before Lev tilted his head to press their lips together. It was a slow kiss, neither of them wanting to go any further than that.

Eventually Lev pulled back, waiting until Fax opened his eyes again. “No more blame,” the angel said, one last time.

Whatever that thing was that had been growing steadily between them wasn't gone, but Fax could feel it receding. Bit by bit, it would go away, Fax was sure. It wasn't going to be a quick fix, but Fax had meant it all those weeks ago when he said he was willing to work with Lev on this. He loved his angel, so much he thought some nights he might choke on the intensity of it.

“Come back to bed?” Lev asked, interrupting Fax’s thoughts. “Please?”

“Yeah.” Fax never could say no to Lev. Not that he wanted to tonight. They could talk more in the morning. And actually talk, not dance around the subject like they had been these past few weeks. That was something for the morning. Tonight, Fax was content enough to slide into bed behind Lev, settled between Lev and the world, where he should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm posting a lot tonight, but I'm hoping to get y'all all caught up so I can update here when I do on tumblr, though there are a few drabbles that will stay just on [tumblr](http://lux-scriptum.tumblr.com), because they were too short/sporadic to figure out where they went here.


	7. Interlude: Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another step back in the past, and a bit of an expansion on their families.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set before Part One.

Fax was already up by the time Lev woke. That wasn't unusual, but Lev’s chest seized with anxiety anyway. He waited a few heartbeats, focused on his breathing, before he rolled out of bed, rooting around for a pair of pants. It was silly, he knew, to get that worked up, and first thing too, but at least he’d calmed down on his own. Mostly, anyway. 

Lev ended up stealing one of the demon’s sweatpants, since it was doubtful that Fax would mind. Once he'd carefully pulled them on, he padded to the kitchen. Just the smell was enough to tell him Fax was only making breakfast, but it certainly helped to see the demon actually in the kitchen, shirtless and hair still rumpled from bed.

Lev wandered over, pressing his face to Fax’s shoulder as he wrapped his arms around Fax’s middle. Fax stilled for him, and they stood in silence for a long moment before Lev pressed a kiss to Fax’s bare shoulder, and whispered, “Morning.”

“Good morning. Sleep okay?” Fax was moving again, scooping the last of the french toast off the griddle so he could set it on a plate and turn off the burners. Then he twisted around in Lev’s arms and kissed Lev’s nose. Only then did Lev nod, and was rewarded with a less than chaste kiss for it. “Good. I crashed pretty hard after last night, and I wouldn't have woken up for anything before morning.”

Lev flushed deep, but a smile tugged at his lips all the same. “I slept great,” He promised. After that he reached up to push Fac’s curls out of his eyes again, and kissed his nose in return. 

Fax laughed softly. “I should probably trim that.” They both knew he wouldn't. Fax never did. The demon turned to grab a plate to push in Lev’s hands, and nodded in the direction of the kitchen table. “I had every intention of bringing you breakfast in bed. Since when do you get up before I get you up?” 

The only reason Lev’s anxiety didn't spike again was the fact that Fax’s tone was so hopelessly affectionate as he followed Lev to the table that even Lev couldn't imagine any judgement in those words. “I woke up and you were gone, so I came and found you.”

Fax made a soft noise, and set down his plate so he could tug Lev into a hug. “Have I told you I love you this morning?” Lev shook his head, and buried his face in Fax’s neck. Fax chuckled. “Well I do. Very much. Though maybe not enough to let breakfast get cold. Eggs were meant to be eaten warm, Lev.”

“You're the one that pulled me into a hug,” Lev shot back, voice muffled.

Fax snorted, but he did let go. Both of them pretended Lev didn't linger. Fax nudged Lev towards the table and circled back to get their drinks. 

“You mentioned last night that one of your friends was having a child?” Fax asked as he settled beside Lev with his coffee in one hand, and Lev’s milk in the other. He couldn't help his curiosity; they didn't talk much about their lives in heaven and hell. It made things simpler, but Fax wanted to know. He wanted to understand. 

“Yeah. Rachael. It's her second in the last hundred years, which is all but unheard of.” Lev shoveled some eggs in his mouth, and gave a happy murmur, much to Fax’s pride. Lev always loved Fax’s cooking. Fax pretended not to stare as Lev swallowed. “Conceiving is hard for angels. It's why there's so many more demons compared to us. It’s why I don't have any siblings.”

“You don't?” Fax blinked. “I couldn't imagine not having any.”

“Well. My parents waited a long time to have children. And then they died, so I didn't really...” Lev shrugged. “I lived with my grandmother until I was old enough to train with whatever other fledglings there were. Raziel wasn't much company, but she took care of me after my parents were killed.”

Fax, fork halfway to his mouth, paused. “Your grandmother is Raziel?”

Lev shrugged. “Yeah.”

“As in one of the original angels created? The Keeper of Secrets?” 

Lev squirmed a little. “Yeah. It's no big deal. I didn't get anything from her except the hair. Certainly not any of her personality. I always felt like I was letting her down.”

Fax stared at his angel, incredulous. He meant nothing offensive by it, but Lev couldn't be anything further from the stories they told of Raziel. Raziel was one of the angels demons knew to leave well enough alone. There was no way to ambush her, out think her, out smart her, out fight her, because the world around her  _ told _ her things. Or so the stories went.

“You said you had siblings?” Lev asked, fiddling with his fork. 

Fax realized he’d been staring, and dragged his attention to his own food. “I have two older sisters and a brother. I'm the youngest out of my siblings, by a good fifty years. I don't think we age as slow as you do, but still, that's about normal for us, though we can and do have age gaps the same as humans too. Depends on the demons. I have several cousins, too.” A smile crossed Fax’s face. “I was particularly close to my youngest cousin. There was only... a decade between us?”

“Was?” Lev asked. “Did he die?”

Fax blinked at that, and then gave a laugh. “No. We just don't see each other much anymore. He doesn't like being on earth and I have no intention of moving back to hell, so chances to see each other are close to none.” Fax paused, and poked at his eggs with his fork. “At least, I don't think he’s dead. Getting news from home is difficult.”

“Ah.” Lev watched Fax for a moment, and then nudged his shoulder. “Tell me more about your siblings. I like hearing about your family.”

Fax cleared his throat. “Well. My brother’s name is Lorne, and my sisters, Etta and Kit, are the oldest. Etta and Lorne take after my father like me, blonde-ish hair and grey-ish eyes. Lorne’s pretty quiet, and an ass, really. He likes pranks, but he doesn't ever know when to stop. Kit’s the only one besides me to take after our grandfather's flames.”

Lev tilted his head to the side. “Are they rare? The gift of fire? It's pretty common among angels.”

Fax lifted a hand and let a single flame flicker to life. He wove it among his fingers. “Rare enough. At least with any sort of power or control. Kit’s nowhere near my level. The only one in my family to get close was Sorin. That cousin I told you about? He was the youngest too, so we often practiced together. I thought I might as well. He deserved more attention than he got. He’s a good kid, and often got forgotten. There were a lot of us. But he really was a good kid, you know?”

“Well, I mean, I can take your word for it, since I haven't met him.”

That got a full on laugh from Fax, head tipped back hard enough he smacked it on the wall. “Fair enough, Lev. Fair enough. He was really good. I wouldn't be surprised if he hasn't surpassed me by now. It's not like I practice overmuch, and Sorin was a bit obsessive.”

“You're really fond of him, aren't you?” Lev wasn't sure if he would have been that fond of a cousin he grew up with, but then again, he didn't really like being around people much.

“He’s like a little brother to me. I wish I saw him more often. I think he’d like you,” Fax added with a grin. 

“I can't imagine any demons liking me,” Lev pointed out, before taking Fax’s last bite of french toast, having already finished his own.

“I like you well enough. I thought I finally managed to convince you of that last night.”

Lev ducked his head so he could hide his face against Fax’s shoulder. “I know you love me, you ass. Demons besides you. I can't believe demons are this fond of angels. Just like I don't think you'd like most of the angels in heaven.”

“Yeah, okay. I wouldn't get on with most angels. But Sorin loves me, and by extension, that means he’d have to at least like you too. Besides. He gets how it feels to be looked over. Being the youngest, not just out of his siblings, but out of all of us, was hard on him. I really do think he’d like you. He’d see you too.”

Lev considered that. “I'll take your word on it. Maybe I’ll get the chance to meet him. There's plenty of time.”

“There is,” Fax agreed, turning a little to kiss the top of Lev’s head before grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers together. “We’ve got eternity.”


	8. Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lev and Fax have settled, and things have gone back to normal. Guess it's time to meet the family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that has torture in it, just so you aren't blindsided by it!

Hope and happiness were heady feelings, and Lev had discovered that he didn't mind getting drunk on them. Things had gotten easier once he and Fax began talking. Not perfect, no, but there was a lightness to Lev that he hadn't felt... ever. Not even before the disaster. 

Fax was happier too, and the cigarettes had disappeared again. Fax was singing along with the radio, and digging in his garden again. On top of that, Fax had started coaxing Lev out on dates. Not just dinner at home, but out to see movies, afternoon picnics at the parks, and days at the mall, where they wandered from store to store and stuffed themselves silly with ice cream. Lev had never been a people person, but he was discovering he did enjoy those outings. That might have just been his happiness at simply being around Fax, and seeing  _ Fax _ be happy.

Today he’d turned down Fax’s offer to go to the grocery with him, however. There was only so much socializing Lev wanted to do, and staying home alone was a welcome arrangement. It gave him a chance to try out a new banana bread recipe, since they’d let their bananas go a bit too long without being eaten. (Again.) Knowing Fax’s sweet tooth, the fact that Lev had chosen a recipe with chocolate chips would likely delight the demon to no end. On top of that, Lev didn't have to wear a shirt at home. He was beginning to wonder if he would ever be able to handle the feeling of cloth against his skin; it still made his stomach twist itself in knots, and there were days where even Fax’s presence couldn't ease the sick feeling. He didn't want to flinch away from Fax on those bad days, but Fax was patient, as always, and if he was hurt, he hid it well. 

The timer went off, a welcome distraction from those thoughts. Lev pulled the bread out of the oven. As he went looking for a toothpick to test and see if the bread was ready, he heard the front door open. “You’re home early,” he called. “Everything okay?”

He couldn't quite be sure if the sound Fax gave was confirming or not; the cats were being particularly loud today. No doubt they’d ambushed him again. Hopefully Fax didn't drop the eggs this time.

Dissatisfied with how well done the bread was, Lev slid it back into the oven. “Fax? I didn't quite catch that, I'm sorry.”

“Not quite, angel.”

Lev stilled. Fax’s voice was off, just barely. A little too low, a little too rough. Was Fax smoking again? Maybe things weren't as okay as Lev had thought. How had Lev missed that though? Fax’s words were confusing too, just off enough that Lev hesitated. He swallowed hard, and closed the oven. They’d gotten better at the whole talking thing. There was no reason to not keep that up. “Is every.... everything-” He broke off as he turned around.

That wasn't Fax. The demon was too tall for one, and his hair was redder than Fax’s, not to mention the fact that it wasn't cropped short on the sides like Fax’s. The stranger leaned against the doorway, expression appraising. “Hello, Levant.” It was eerie, hearing Fax’s voice coming from a stranger’s mouth, just wrong enough that it didn't sit right. “You, little angel, have been distracting my cousin for quite some time.” Bright blue eyes glinted as the demon straightened and took a casual step forward. “Well. Not so much an angel anymore, I suppose, but close enough.”

Lev scrambled to remember the list of names Fax had told him of his family. “Sorin?” He checked, backing up a step. His back hit the stove. 

A smile spread across the demon’s face. The expression was too bright, the grin a touch too wide. “So he does remember me. I'm touched he told you about me. He talked about you, you know. I'm not sure what he told you about that month after your breakup, but he wasn't alone that whole time. He’s quite fond of you, even when you break his heart. But then again, he was always been too forgiving of people he loves.”

At this point Lev didn't care what Fax said about his cousin; the demon’s expression was hungry enough to send fear sparking through his chest. “Fax isn't home right now,” Lev tried, edging as subtly as he could towards the door.

“Oh, I'm aware,” Sorin said. There was a dark purr under the words, and that was too much for Lev. 

He bolted, lunging for the back door. Not that it would do him any good, he soon discovered. When he wrenched it open, he found a demon waiting for him. The creature hadn't bothered with their human guise, and the mottled skin on the hand reaching for him made him shriek. He jerked back, away from the creature and it’s too many joints, only to slam into something solid hard enough to make him gasp. He thought his heart actually stopped for a moment there, and that was enough time for Sorin to grab him by the neck, nails digging into his skin.

“I really thought, after that mess, that maybe he’d be done with you. It would have made my job so much easier.” The demon’s grip on his neck was scorching as he yanked Lev back. The mottled, half rotted demon pulled the back door shut, only to open it again with a dramatic flair. 

That wasn't their backyard anymore. 

Lev knew, like all angels who were allowed to step foot on earth, that portals to hell needed one thing: a doorway. But he had no idea what else they needed. As it turned out, all that was needed besides a doorway was a demon.

Sorin shoved Lev when the angel tried to jerk back again, nearly knocking Lev off his feet. Lev twisted in a vain effort to dart around the two demons and was rewarded with another hard shove. This one sent him past the doorway, though his half hearted jerk meant he clipped his shoulder as he went through. 

Stories of hell whispered from angel to angel had himself bracing for fire and damnation the moment he stepped foot inside. And sure, the air was a little hot, and a little muggy, but what got him was the fact that the room he was in was so utterly normal. A bit bare, and very  _ grey _ , but nothing was burning and there were no pits of teeth and bone waiting to swallow him up. There was nothing much at all, really, except a couple of chairs.

And also the demons behind him.

“Unfortunately, for you, he took you back in. And I'm sorry, but that just won't do. You hold him up too much. You distract him, when he should be learning that hell is where a demon belongs.” Sorin circled around to face Lev. His smile was a little less wild, but there was still an edge to it that made Lev shrink back. “And if you won't break him by leaving, then I suppose we’ll have to find another way, won't we?”

Lev’s head felt light, and his breaths came too quick, too fast. That wasn't helping anything. Was this really the cousin that Fax had spoken so fondly of? The demon before him made his anxiety twist in his chest, to the point that he felt like it was trying to claw its way out of his throat, only to get stuck. Maybe that would keep him from whimpering.

“You, Levant, might be a distraction,” Sorin said, his eyes growing brighter as he jabbed a finger in Lev’s direction. Lev jerked back another step as the demon went on. “But I'm going to make that count.”

Lev closed his eyes, shoulders tensing as a third demon entered the room behind him. He didn't want to die, not now, but he didn't doubt that was what was coming. A shudder went through him. Why couldn't he and Fax be happy? They weren't bothering anyone in the house that had become his home. They barely talked to their neighbors, and they hadn't seen angels or demons in ages, except each other. They just wanted to be left alone, but that seemed too much to ask for.

“Don't look so pained, Levant. Think of it this way. Fairfax could do so much better than a backstabbing ex-angel who’s scared of his own shadow.” Sorin’s words had Lev’s eyes snapping open. Despite everything,  _ that _ was what made the tears well up and spill over. Sorin’s smile became sharper as he stepped forward once more. "I'm practically doing him a favour, ridding him of you."

Lev gave a choked sound. “No-”

“Ah, it speaks. Good. I was afraid you’d gone mute. If my cousin manages to figure out where you are before my friends are done with you, I'd hate for him not to be able to hear your screams.”

Lev gave a soft sound, and even he couldn't tell if it was horror or terror. 

“I have to go, but I’ll be back, I promise. There are a few friends of mine who would love to get their hands on an angel. Did you know most demons know someone who has been killed by an angel? That leads to some very angry demons, Levant.” Sorin chucked Lev under the chin lightly, before shouldering past so abruptly Lev nearly toppled. “Have fun, while I’m gone, boys.”

The door had barely shut behind Sorin before the first demon struck, a solid blow to the back of Lev’s knees that had him slamming face first into the ground. He already tasted blood, and knew it was only going to be downhill from there. As Lev pushed to his hands and knees, he could hear the demons chuckling. 

Clawed fingers latched onto his hair, yanking his head back. A sharp whine escaped him and he couldn't bring himself care. What did being brave or strong matter when you were going to die anyway? The demon yanking on his hair gave him a shake. Lev took it limply. There was no reason to resist. He took the open handed slap silently, and the claws digging in his scalp, because what else could he do? If the snarls wasn't proof enough of their anger over his lack of response, getting tossed to the corner of the room certainly was. It was no fun for them when Lev was doing his best rag doll impression. 

At this point, Lev had a very serious debate with himself on whether there was really a point in uncurling from where he’d landed, or if he should stay in a ball and take whatever they gave that way. Not that it particularly mattered, because while he was frantically running through the pros and cons in the back of his mind, one of the demons had already crossed the room and dragged him upright. 

“And here Sorin told us you cried easy. Nothing?” The demon, who had him by the throat at this point, looked relatively human, if you ignored the long, wicked horns and the purplish tinge to his skin. His claws dug into Lev’s skin. “Not even a whimper?”

Lev doubted it’d be helpful to point out that he was so terrified right now that he could barely get enough air to count as breathing, much less make a sound. Then again, that circled back to the whole lack of breathing thing, because how could he explain when he couldn't breathe?

It turned out getting slammed into a wall did make it possible to give a cry, breathing issues aside. The demons were delighted to discover this. Lev was too busy dealing with the fact that his head was spinning (panic? Or hitting his head on the wall? Did it really matter?) to notice. He was pretty sure he was crying again as he clawed at the hand around his throat. All that earned him was a slam against the wall, hard enough to rattle his teeth.

Lev registered a, “We can do better than that, can't we?” before the ground rushed up to meet him. These demons were awfully fond of tossing him around. As he tried to convince himself to at least move enough to curl up in an effort to protect himself, a foot came down on his hand. Well, the demons got their scream, then. Lev began to sob quietly, utter panic taking over every other thought. He didn't want to die, he didn't want to be here, he wanted  _ Fax _ , and oh God, Fax was going to come home to an empty house and what if he thought Lev had walked out him? 

“It's a pity, really. You’ve got no wings. I heard angels’ wings are very sensitive. Woulda been fun to test that out,” one of the demons was saying. Lev tried curling around his hand (he was sure at least a couple fingers were broken, but he couldn't bring himself to look) only to have a foot knock him back onto his stomach, even if it meant landing on his hand. He cried out, though the sound quickly petered out to soft sobs.

“We can always pretend they’re still there, can't we?” The second demon said, all but purring at the idea. 

Lev thought he was going to be sick.

And then he felt the claws digging into the scars in his back. Despite the heavy air of hell, he swore he could still taste the light of heaven on his tongue. For a heartbeat, it wasn't a grey tile floor under him, but the cold steel of a table while they took his  _ wings _ , God, no his  _ wings _ , even when he sobbed and begged and pleaded. He’d had no pride then, and he had none now. He would do anything to make this stop, anything at all.

Anything, including shifting into his angelic form. He, like every fledgling to go through training, had been warned, time and time again to only use his angelic form as a last resort. It was a last ditch effort, a desperate grab at hope, and they always warned to only do so with another angel there to help them after. An angelic form utterly gutted an angel, using every last scrap of energy and power to decimate the demons around him. 

It was a testament to how scared Lev was that he reached inside himself for his power, and then beyond, digging deeper, until he found his true form. He knew he shouldn't, but he was desperate, and he needed them to stop, needed them to stop touching his back, needed to be able to breathe, oh  _ God _ -

He latched onto the essence of his angelic form and let it grow, panting through his sobs while the demon above continued to dig claws deeper and deeper into his scars.

He clung to that true form, teetering on the edge as he hesitated. There was no going back, after this. There would only be the aftermath. As he debated, the door opened. Could Sorin be back already? It was enough to push him over that ledge. He couldn't stand to be around that demon a moment longer. Lev gave a final yank on his power and let himself spiral into his true form. He unleashed himself in an explosion of shadows. For a moment, there was nothing but his darkness filling the room. He clung to his control, drawing on every ounce of his power until it guttered out and he collapsed inwards on himself with an abruptness that had him quivering.

The angels never told him that using that form left him this disoriented and limp. This wasn't weak. This was utterly useless. He wasn't sure how he was still breathing. Lev didn't have the energy to roll over, although maybe that was a good thing. He was hyper aware of every nerve in his body, and the weight of the demon slumped on his back was agonizing. He didn't have enough energy to even sob now, and instead gave little strangled gasps for air. 

He had to get up. He had to get out of here, instead of waiting to see if he’d killed the demons, or only dragged them down to his level of worthlessness. He could, he thought. He could get up. 

Probably. 

Maybe.

Definitely not.

He lay there for several minutes, hoping he’d be able to gather enough strength enough to stand. Footsteps beyond the doorway arrived far too soon. His heart stuttered and then went into overdrive. No. No, he couldn't handle more demons at this point. He needed more time. Maybe he’d been too hasty in using that form. He should have waited until he absolutely needed it. Panic was not a good enough reason.

The footsteps paused, and Lev heard the door being pushed open all the way. After a heartbeat, the demon on top of him was shoved off. A hand slid through his hair, mockingly gentle, before using it as a handle to lift his head. Sorin frowned down at him. “Almost impressive, little angel.”

Lev didn't quite manage a sob.

Sorin smiled then. “Come on, angel. We’ve got things to do before my cousin figures out where you’ve gone. I should have known lesser demons weren't quite on the level needed to deal with an angel, even one like you.” 

Lev’s head spun as he was abruptly lifted upright. Being dropped into a chair was not the most painful thing he’d been through today, but it did drag a broken whine from him. Sorin paused, regarding him for a long moment, before lightly patting his cheek. 

“I'd say don't worry, but really, it’s all going to get worse here on out, Levant.”

Lev wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and not open them until this was all over, one way or another. He let his head tip back, concentrating on every breath rather than focus on Sorin lashing him to the chair. He was still shaking, and Sorin being so close made his chest tight. 

“I really ought to thank you. I've never seen the after effects of one of your kind imploding like that. A pity all three of them are dead. I would have liked to ask how  _ they _ felt.” There was a pause as Sorin finished tying Lev down, and then, “Oh, no, Levant. Don't fall asleep on me.”

Lev didn't open his eyes fast enough, because Sorin drove a blade into the hand the demons had broken earlier. Lev shrieked, jerking against the ropes. He stared at Sorin through his tears, still unable to comprehend how someone related to Fax could be this cruel. No wonder Fax had wanted to leave. 

Sorin considered him, and then gave another slow smile. “Better. Now I have to leave again, but trust me when I say the demons I've found to keep you company are  _ far _ more entertaining than the first group. I'm just sorry it took so long to round them up. I should have thought this through a bit better, shouldn't I?” Sorin twisted the blade until Lev gave another ragged cry. “If you manage to stay alive long enough for my cousin to figure everything out, that would be ideal, but I won't be too upset if you decide to kick the bucket before then. It will hurt just as much for him to find your body.” Sorin stood up then, and backed away. There was a beat, where Lev expected him to continue to gloat, but instead the door clicked shut.

Sorin was gone, his knife still buried in Lev’s hand. As Lev took one unsteady breath after the other, he started to pray that Fax never figured it out. Better that he think that Lev left than to come down here. Fax had no idea what sort of monster lurked in hell, waiting, and Fax shouldn't have to face family like that.

No one should.


	9. Interlude: Sorin and Cyrus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is everything that was going on with Sorin while Fax was finding his place on earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a collection of scenes that you need to know before I move on to Part Six, and so it's a Lot Longer than my usual chapters. I'm sure y'all don't mind ( I hope not, anyway).

Sorin had never been summoned before. It was a peculiar feeling, a yank in his chest, it burned a touch too acidic to be his own power. In the next moment, he was standing in front of a man kneeling on the ground. There was no warding keeping him from leaving, now that the summoning was over, and so Sorin started walking for the door without another word. He was too busy to deal with some desperate human.

The man grabbed his wrist as he brushed past. Sorin dropped his gaze, a heartbeat away from scorching the man’s hand clean off. He paused at the last moment. Whoever this man was, there was a riot of panic and pain in those wide eyes, and he hadn't even bothered to wipe away the tears sliding down his cheeks. Well, Sorin considered, not this round anyway, if the smeared eyeliner was anything to go by.

“Please. I don't know what I'm doing.” He swallowed, and Sorin couldn't help watching the way his throat bobbed. The man’s grip tightened on his wrist. “Please.” The word ripped through the room, a power behind it that hadn't been there before.

Witch, not just a man. That explained why he’d been summoned. Not just any witch; this was new one. Unused to his power. Unless this was all a trick, but no witch in their right mind would trick a demon without anything to force them to stay.

“How long?” Sorin asked. He watched the confusion flicker across the witch’s face, and then sighed. “How long have you had your magic?”

“Six months.”

Oh, the hope in the witch’s eyes. It burned. Sorin carefully pried the witch’s fingers from his wrist. Six months, and he hadn't asked for help before this? Or maybe he had, and not received any.

“If you won't help, at least point me in the right direction. I can't do this, not anymore.The witch wiped at his eyes, and stood.

The man before had a good couple inches on Sorin, and that fact wasn't lost on Sorin. Neither was literally anything else about this man, the longer Sorin stared. Not the smooth brown skin, not the many rings on each hand, not the golden flecks in his brown eyes, not the studs in his ears, not the dark clothes that absolutely looked amazing on him. Of all the people to summon him, why did he have to be attractive? Sorin was busy, he didn't have time to-

“What’ll you give me for my help?” He found himself saying.

The witch blinked. “I... I assumed this would cost me my soul.”

Sorin choked back a laugh. “And what the hell would I do with your soul? Put it in a shelf?”

“I don't have anything to give.” The witch fiddled with one of his rings, before clenching his fists.”I have... I have a few thousand in saving. It's not much but...”

Sorin’s nose wrinkled. “I don't need your money. I want something of value. To _you_.”

Sorin watched the witch carefully, and refused to be moved by the way his mouth tightened and his breath hitched. He was willing to wait until the witch settled on something.

“I...” He took a deep breath, and something in his voice cracked as he pulled a simple chain from beneath his shirt. On it a plain silver band hung. “I have my mother’s wedding band. My father took the engagement ring to give to his new wife, after Mom died, but-”

“If that's what you’re willing to offer.” Sorin grit his teeth. He was _not_ going to just cave, so he added, a bit spitefully, “And the memories that go with it.”

That made the witch pause. “I wouldn't remember my mom?”

Sorin relented, a tiny bit. “No. Not all the memories. Just the best ones.”

The witch closed his eyes, and Sorin thought, for a moment, that the witch would walk away from the deal. Instead, the witch reached up and unhooked the chain from around his neck. He held it out to Sorin, a stubborn set to his jaw. Sorin stuffed down any guilt he felt, and let the witch drop the ring, chain and all, into his hand. He pretended not to notice that it was still warm from being tucked inside the witch’s shirt, and instead held out his free hand.

“The deal doesn't need to be sealed with a kiss?” The witch blurted.

Sorin gave a low laugh. “Not really, no. Unless you want to.” He flicked his eyebrows up, and was pleasantly surprised to see the witch met his gaze steadily. “A handshake will be fine, witch.”

“Cyrus,” was the only response, before the witch shook his hand. Cyrus’ grip was firm, but there was still a distinctly haunted look to him that Sorin decided he didn't like.

“Sorin. I'll see you in a few hours.” He resisted the impulse to rub his hand on his pants when he backed up. “It’ll take me a bit to get a house set up. Use it to start packing.”

“Excuse me?”

Sorin stuffed the ring in his pocket. “First lesson. The city? The electricity, and the sheer energy of all the people and things going on, fucks with your magic. Makes it more erratic.”

It was the first thing a witch should have been taught, long before their magic manifested. The fact that he didn't know that meant Sorin really, really didn't have the time to invest in teaching him everything he didn't know, because Cyrus clearly knew absolutely nothing. He just hoped Cyrus wouldn't prove to be one of those people who challenged him over everything.

“I can't just move. I have a job, a life here. I don't have the money to move.”

“Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it. I promised to help, didn't I?” Sorin made his lips curve up in a smile. “I don't go back on a promise.”

 

* * *

 

A week, and Cyrus was feeling frustrated. Not with the house, even if it was miles away from anyone. It was an amazing house, and he felt overwhelmed every time he realized the whole thing was for him. All three bedrooms (or, two bedrooms, and a study, according to Sorin), and a functional kitchen whose fridge held more food than Cyrus really needed (Sorin helped with keeping that in control, though Cyrus wasn't sure why when the demon claimed to not need to eat), and an actual, gigantic yard (for practicing magic, according to Sorin, but Cyrus was more than happy to use it as a comfy place to stretch out and pour over the books on Sorin brought him.). It grated on his pride that the demon dumped all of this in his lap. It was too much, but at the same time, he’d given something priceless to get this. Maybe he deserved it. Or maybe he didn't.

He had no way of telling what memories he’d given Sorin. No way of knowing if they meant as much as he felt they had. He was more bothered by that than the actual loss of the memories.

“Focus,” Sorin snapped. “Try it again.”

The sharp tone caught Cyrus by surprise;  Sorin was usually patient, more so than Cyrus would have expected. He fixed the demon with a glare, and then dropped his attention back to the padlock that was sitting on the table between them. He was supposed to be unlocking it, but no many times he tried to grab onto that thread of energy (magic, Sorin told him), the moment he had it, he had no idea how to apply it to the lock in front of him. Even so, he took a deep breath, and recited the spell Sorin had slapped down in front of him this morning.

Nothing happened.

This was different, as he tried to explain to Sorin, over and over. He could _feel_ the energy of the fire Sorin had been making him manipulate, and he could _feel_ the energy in the breeze Sorin had told him to pull through the house, and he could _feel_ the energy in the river, but this had no energy to it. A lock was an inanimate object, and so there was nothing to manipulate.

“Are you a witch or aren't you? Do magic.” Sorin stalked around the table to jab a finger at the paper. “Don't recite the words like you’re reading an obituary. Mean them.”

Cyrus grimaced at the demon. “Got any helpful advice, or do you just stand there looking pretty while you bitch?”

“Just do the spell,” Sorin shot back. “I know you can.”

It was such a odd mix of frustration and encouragement. Cyrus took a deep breath, switched his glare to the lock. This time, when he reached for his magic, he tried to shove that energy into the words, to wrap them up in that power he felt and give them more meaning than just sounds coming from his lips.

The lock clicked open.

Oh. Cyrus stared at it blankly, and then looked up at Sorin. The hardness had melted away from the demon’s face, for once, and he even had a grin, small though it was. Cyrus didn't remember making the decision, but in the next moment he was grabbing Sorin by the face and kissing him. It wasn't a soft kiss. It was little more than a harsh press of their lips, and then Cyrus was stepping back, face hot and body thrumming with energy. He might have apologized, if Sorin hadn't  flushed and rocked forward a step before slamming to a halt. Interesting.

“I want to do it again,” Cyrus said, and watched the demon’s blue eyes drop to his lips. “The spell,” he added, trying not to smile.

Sorin’s head jerked a bit. “I'm not stopping you,” he said, taking a step back as he rubbed his palm on his jeans.

Cyrus reached over and fixed the lock. He reached for that awareness again, and visualized wrapping that energy around the words as he repeated the spell. The lock clicked open, easy. He lifted his gaze to Sorin’s again, and grinned. “I guess I did need to mean it.”

“Are you admitting my advice was worth something, and not just me standing there... how did you put it? Looking pretty and bitching?”

Whatever tension there had been before, Cyrus couldn’t feel it now. He gave a free laugh. “Careful, Sorin. Someone might think you’re fishing for compliments.”

“I would never.”

* * *

 

Several months passed. Cyrus was making progress in leaps and bounds, and Sorin felt ridiculously proud of him for it. He had settled easily enough into a pattern. He had his own business to attend to in the mornings, either training or running around sucking up to older demons who were, in his opinion, utter idiots, but the afternoons he kept free. He hunted down spell after spell,  and bartered his way into getting his hands on spell books and tips and tricks and whatever else he thought would help Cyrus.

They hadn't kissed again, and Sorin told himself it was better that way.

Eventually, though, he knew just his sparse knowledge on magic, and the scraps he could pull together, weren't going to be enough. He asked his sister, Vera, and she put him in contact with a demon who had a century of working with witches. The demon, Fabius, was a friend of Vera’s, and promised to bring the witch he was currently helping out to offer Cyrus insight a demon might not have.

Cyrus agreed to meet the witch, and so Sorin acquired them a car. He let Cyrus drive, instead appointing himself navigator. Fabius had given him an address to a coffee shop on the edge of a little town almost two hours away. It felt like a massive waste of time to drive there when he could just duck through hell and be there, but he wasn't going to drag Cyrus through hell, so this was the best he could do.

He made sure they left early, despite Cyrus’ amusement on the matter. Missing out on dealing with other demons was just fine with Sorin, even if that meant he was stuck in a car with the witch. Who he was not staring at.

Cyrus turned out to be a particularly careful driver, and to Sorin’s delight they had similar tastes in music. He pretended to ignore the looks Cyrus shot him when he hummed along. The witch could judge all he wanted, the music was _good_ , okay?

"So, who exactly is the witch again?” Cyrus asked, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “I know you said I should meet her, but why haven't I already, if its so important?”

Sorin huffed, and leaned against the window. “I already explained this, what, three times? I didn't know any demons who work with witches personally. I had to ask around.”

“Do you even know them, then?” Cyrus glanced over briefly, but  his gaze went back to the road right after.

“I met Fabius. Angela doesn't make forays into hell, so I haven't met her, but I'm sure she’s fine. If you don't hit it off, we can bail. I'll figure something else out.”

Cyrus cleared his throat. “Huh. I didn't realize you cared so much about my comfort levels, Sorin.”

“I would have thought providing you with a fully furnished house and anything else you could ever need would have tipped you off sooner.” Sorin wasn't flushing, he wasn't. He’d gone too far, admitted too much, and so he snapped his mouth shut instead.

Cyrus didn't say anything else for the rest of the drive. The music tried to fill the space between them, but it was a weak substitute. Sorin was relieved when he was able to start giving directions again when they neared the little town. Parking was a nightmare, but Cyrus managed it, and with far more patience than Sorin would have shown. It took circling the tiny parking lot twice before someone pulled out and they could park.

Sorin got out first, before the car was even off. Across the parking lot he could see Fabius, mostly because the demon was waving cheerfully at him. Sorin tried not to roll his eyes. Fabius, as he’d quickly discovered, was an enthusiastic person, though he tried to pass himself off as an elegant and collected sort of person. He almost did, Sorin had to admit as he looked over the demon. He at least had a nice sense of fashion. If Sorin hadn't found him annoying as all get out, he might have been willing to flirt.

Well, that wasn't fair. He wasn't that annoying. Just more so than Sorin was used to playing nice with.

Angela, a short Latina in an oversized sweater and a pair of warm leggings, was seated beside him, coffee already in hand. Sorin looked back to Cyrus, who was getting out of the car by this point.

“I'm assuming that's them,” Cyrus said as he closed his door. There wasn't a pause in his step as he started across the parking lot. Sorin lifted a hand in greeting as he followed Cyrus, and did his best not to roll his eyes at the grin on Fabius’ face.

“I thought you’d never show up,” Fabius said cheerfully when they reached the table. “Before you ask, all three of the coffees on the table belong to Angela. You're going to have to order your own, sorry. She's a bit of a coffee hog.”

Angela smacked him on the shoulder. “Stop mocking my coffee habits, you heathen. Just because you think tea is better doesn't mean you're _right_.”

“Sure it does.” Fabius waved a hand, before standing. “You must be Sorin’s prodigy, Cyrus. He talked a lot about you.”

Sorin tried not to flush. “You wanted to know what level of skill he had. I gave you the most accurate estimation I could provide.” When he glanced in Cyrus’ direction. The witch was smiling faintly, and that didn't help Sorin’s not-blush.

“Well. It was certainly... detailed,” Angela murmured into her coffee.

Sorin wasn't sure if he liked this small woman. She watched him from behind her glasses with a level expression, and only seemed amused when he wrinkled his nose at her. “Anyway,” he said stiffly, flopping down in one of the chairs. “You think you can help Cyrus or not?”

Cyrus sat down more slowly. “I'm sorry. He’s a bit rude. I haven't trained him out of it yet.”

Sorin shot the witch a dirty look; he hadn't agreed to being mocked when he set this up.

“It's okay,” Fabius flicked his fingers, dismissive. “His sister warned me. As did his cousin. And I in turn warned Ange.”

Sorin flicked the other demon a look that should have warned him to back off. And maybe it worked, because Angela nudged Fabius before fixing her gaze on Cyrus. “How much did you learn from your-”

Cyrus was already shaking his head. “It came from my mother's side of the family, and she died when I was five. Grandma followed a few years later, and that was all the family I had from that side.” His hand lifted, and moved halfway to his chest, before he hurriedly rubbed the back of his neck.

Sorin squashed the guilt mercilessly, aided by the anger now churning in his gut. His cousin? Sure, that could have been Etta, Kit, hell even Lorne. Lucifer knew Lorne never wasted a chance to complain about anything. But Fabius spent enough time on earth, here with his witch, that Sorin could guess he meant Fax. The fact that Fax had been bitching about his attitude cut deeper than knowing his sister had.

Distantly he heard Angela talking, something about her own past, but Sorin couldn't bring himself to care about her sob story. Lots of people were orphans, and there were plenty of humans who never got adopted. And he knew most witches learned from their parents. There was a reason that Cyrus and witches like him reached out to demons for help. What other choices did they have?

Fabius touched his arm, startling Sorin from his thoughts. “Come on. Let's go get some coffee,” Fabius suggested with a bright smile. “Those two will be at it for a while.”

Sorin automatically looked to Cyrus. Cyrus arched a brow. “I like mine-” he started lightly.

“I know how you like your coffee,” Sorin grumbled, and stood. He shoved his hands in his pockets and wandered inside.

Fabius trotted after him, a smug look on his face. The expression had faded by the time they got to the counter, however. “Sorin, are you... I'm not sure what I said, but I'm sorry. I'm used to Angela, and it takes her a bit more to get pissed off.”

The stupid thing was, Fabius meant it. Sorin could see that much. A glance out the window told him Cyrus had relaxed completely, judging by the easy grin he had. Sorin didn't want to screw this up just because Fabius had poked at a raw nerve he didn't even know was there. He waved a hand and tried to not sound like he had a stick shoved up his ass when he said, “Don't worry about it. Let just get some coffee.” Decaf for Cyrus, because the man was an absolute horror who somehow functioned without caffeine, but plenty of sugar, because Sorin knew damn well the witch had a sweet tooth, no matter how healthy he pretended to be.

Fabius continued to watch him, amused again, but he just got another large cup of coffee to bring out to Angela. Sorin looked out at the three empty cups, and then down at the one in Fabius’ hand.

“Sweet Lucifer. You aren't serious, are you? How much coffee does she _drink_?” Sorin was unable to stop himself from asking.

“A lot,” Fabius said, pulling a face. “Probably too much, but she’s full grown, so it's not like it can stunt her growth any more than it already has.”

“Oh, like you have room to talk, Fabius. You’re what, five four?” Sorin snorted, and elbowed the door open for them.

“Five five, thanks for asking.” Fabius stuck his tongue out.

“Mmmhmmm,” Sorin muttered, making his way over to the table.

“-and you're awfully young. Most witches don't come into their magic until closer to their thirties, at the youngest,” Angela was saying. “Sorin wasn't wrong to call you a prodigy. To have your magic manifest at twenty-six...”

Cyrus picked at a loose thread on his sleeve. “That's me. Everything I really shouldn't be.” He looked up, and gave a sheepish smile, accepting the coffee Sorin stuck in his hands absently. “Sorry. Don't mind me.”

Angela’s brows rose,  but she merely stood, and snagged her coffee from Fabius. “Tu texted. You know it's big if he bothers to text. We should get going.”

“You’re going? Already?” Sorin demanded. He wished Cyrus’ hand on his arm wasn't such a steadying weight.

“Cyrus gave me his phone number. Get him some internet, and I can set up a video chat and show him spells that way. We can meet in person again if we have to.” Angela adjusted her glasses absently. “I already drove pretty far out of my way to talk to you two. I do have a life outside this meeting.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Thank you. Really,” Cyrus cut in over Sorin. “I'll get him to figure out the internet thing. Can you text me tomorrow?”

“Of course,” she promised.

Fabius looked like he might do something stupid, like hug Sorin or something, so Sorin let a spark dance on his fingertips briefly.  It was too brief and subtle for any humans to catch it, but Fabius got the message loud and clear. “Right,” the demon said. “Well I guess I'll see you around. Good luck with this one, Cyrus.” He flashed a grin in Sorin’s direction before darting off after Angela.

“Good luck? Cheeky little-” Sorin glared at the car pulling away.

“To be fair, you are difficult to deal with.” Cyrus stood and stretched. Sorin did not watch his shirt slide up as he did so. “Come on, I wanna go home. That spell, the one for binding someone?  I wanna try it again.”

“Not on me, you aren't,” Sorin muttered.

The grin Cyrus gave him wasn't encouraging.

This time the silence between them was more comfortable. And when they pulled up to the house, Sorin followed him inside instead of going home to hell. It wasn't like there waswas anything to do there, except deal with family, or other demons, or training.

Somehow, Cyrus seemed more tempting.

“So do you think it’ll work? I can find another pair, if you want.” Sorin hovered in the kitchen doorway, bracing a hand against it. “They can't be the only pair. And I get Fabius can be a little annoying, and I don't know about Angela. I told you I didn't get a chance to meet her before this. I hope leaving you alone with her was okay. You didn't seem to be in any distress, but...” He trailed off as Cyrus wandered over. That smile couldn't mean anything but trouble.

“Hey, Sorin?” Cyrus said lightly.

“Mmhmm?” Sorin backed up a step, and then grimaced. He had no reason to be backing away.

“You're cute, on a good day, but damn, I think I like you best flustered. You’ve been ridiculous all day, Sorin, and frankly, that's just not fair.” Cyrus was still smiling,  and Sorin very decidedly did not like that.

He very decidedly stopped disliking it when Cyrus grabbed his face lightly and kissed him.

This time it wasn't a quick press of the lips and then the witch was gone. Cyrus meant business. Sorin quickly found himself pressed against the wall, though Cyrus was still carefully cupping his face. Sorin wrapped a hand Cyrus’ wrist. That was enough that Cyrus pulled back.

“No?” He asked.

Sorin stared at him. And stared a bit longer. He didn't think this was how a deal with a witch was supposed to go. It was a deal, a contract, and... and he really wanted to kiss Cyrus again. “Yes?”

“Could you not sound like that's a question?” Cyrus started to pull away. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Don't you dare,” Sorin said, tightening his grip on Cyrus’ wrist.

Cyrus just laughed at him, and kissed him again soundly. They stood there for several minutes, Cyrus holding his face and kissing him stupid, and Sorin clinging to his wrist and kissing back like his life depended on it.

Not really a bad way to end the day, to be honest.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later, and Sorin was rather pleased with how things were working. So what if he spent the night a couple of times? It was fine, this was fine, and damn if Cyrus didn't know how to kiss. And fucking tease, too. Cyrus had made it pretty damn clear he'd been well aware of everything that had been distracting to Sorin, and now he was absolutely abusing this knowledge. His exact words, one night, had been, “You think I didn't notice you staring at my ass every chance you got?”

He’d laughed when Sorin had spluttered, and kissed away whatever half-hearted protests Sorin might have tried to say. That worked in Sorin’s book. It wasn't like he didn't mock Cyrus right back. That was the most relieving thing about giving in and kissing the witch whenever he felt like it. Nothing really had changed. The only thing that was different was that Sorin stayed longer, and Cyrus liked to celebrate his successes by pressing Sorin against the nearest surface and kissing him until Sorin couldn't breathe. They still snipped and teased, and Cyrus still worked hard on his magic, and Sorin still pretended he wasn't only just barely staying ahead of the witch in terms of learning about magic so he could teach Cyrus.  He didn't want to think of the day that Cyrus surpassed him in that respect, because at that point, the only thing he’d be useful for was a battery for Cyrus’ spells.

Not that he would have minded. It was draining, but tapping into a demon’s power was a useful skill for a witch, and powered the bigger spells, instead of waiting for a natural source of energy. Theoretically, a witch could pull from any life around them, but the magic, power, whatever,  that a demon had was far more energy than a human life would ever be, was almost always on hand, and easier to manipulate, too. It was also, theoretically, possible to do the same with an angel’s power. Not that Sorin wanted Cyrus anywhere near an angel. Ever.

Sorin wasn't able to convince himself that the kissing meant anything more than just that, and just being a battery for a spell was not excuse enough to hang around constantly. Sorin was desperate to stay ahead of Cyrus, to the point that he sat in on every lesson that Cyrus had with Angela,  and did his own research while the witch inevitably had to sleep. Sure, it meant he was actually tired in a way he couldn't exactly ignore, but Cyrus didn't seem to mind when he found Sorin on his couch in the mornings.

Today, though, wasn't a day of digging through texts. Angela had given Cyrus homework days ago; he was supposed to wait for a storm, and see if he couldn't harness the energy of that to power his spells. This was why Sorin was in the doorway of the house, arms crossed, while Cyrus stood on the steps of the front porch, watching clouds build. The wind picked up around them, tugging at Sorin’s curls. Judging by the glance Cyrus shot over his shoulder, he appreciated the look.

Lightning forked across the sky, and thunder followed soon after. “She did say to try for a big storm. Try not to get electrocuted out there, Cy.” Sorin grinned at Cyrus’ dry expression.

“You sure you don't want to come out here with me?” Cyrus arched a brow. “I've been told it’ll be fun.”

“For you, maybe. You’ll be drunk on magic. I'm the designated driver, remember?”

Cyrus laughed. “You just don't want to get wet.”

“Damn right.”

That only got another laugh from Cyrus. “Big bad demon afraid of a little water?” He turned back to the yard. The rain had started, and it was only going to get worse.

“My magic is strictly fire. You really think I'm going to be happy about getting wet?” Sorin lifted a hand, wiggling flame covered fingers. “No thank you.”

“Ha! Says the man who takes hour long showers. Party pooper.” Cyrus shucked his jacket and tossed it at Sorin. “Here. No point in getting this wet.”

Sorin twisted to throw the jacket onto the recliner, before looking back at his witch, who was already stepping down into the yard. Had he chosen that shirt on purpose? Bastard. Sorin crossed his arms.

For a long moment, Cyrus stood there in the storm and did nothing but tip his head back as the rain fell harder. Another bolt of lightning split the sky, thunder rolling right after. Sorin was starting to worry that Cyrus wouldn't be able to, even though Cyrus had already proven that he was more than capable of using natural energy around them to fuel his magic.

It started as a flicker, as the wind whipped the trees around them. A spark of light danced on Cyrus’ fingers, and as thunder ripped through the air, it brightened to a flame. Sorin’s breath caught, and he took a step forward as the spark grew. It wasn't anything that Cyrus hadn't done before, but Sorin was mesmerized anyway.

But then the rain stopped. Sorin blinked. No. Not stopped. He could see the rain in the air, hanging there. Cyrus still had his head tipped back, eyes shut, but his hands were steady. The witch let the flames crawl up his arms, before suddenly spreading them wide. The fire flung out with the motion. Greens, blues, golds, reds, all sorts of colors danced in the flames while Cyrus turned to face Sorin.

Sorin stepped down off the porch, and looked up. There was a dome over them, growing ever wider as the rain outside it continued to fall, fierce and wild. He switched his attention back to Cyrus, who was surrounded in a whirlwind of fire and light. The rain that had been suspended around them shot upward, right as lightning cracked down the center of the dome.

Light filled the yard, so bright Sorin threw up an arm and backed up the steps again, swearing. When it died down, he rubbed his eyes. Cyrus was kneeling in the mud, smoke curling off of him as the rain fell again. Sorin’s breath stuttered, but before he could force himself to move Cyrus tipped his head back again and began to laugh. It was breathless and it was as wild as the storm around him.

Cyrus got to his feet, a little unsteady. His jeans were coated in mud,  and he was soaked, but he stumbled up to where Sorin was frozen. “I did it,” he breathed, before slamming their mouths together. Sorin could feel his magic dancing along their skin, plucking at the fire in Sorin’s soul as he kissed back. Cyrus backed him up against the house, hands fisted in Sorin’s jacket as he pressed close.

“You’re soaking,” Sorin protested when he managed to put a tiny bit of space between them.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Cyrus shot back.

Sorin really couldn't argue with that. He looped his arms around Cyrus and kissed him, again and again until Sorin thought he might just drag Cyrus down with him when his knees gave out.

Cyrus seemed to notice this, because he drew back. “Can we move this elsewhere?”

“Yeah,” Sorin said. “Yeah, we can...” Cyrus was already tugging him through the doorway, magic a heady rush as it wound and meshed with Sorin’s own. “Not the bed. Cy, we talked about this.”

Cyrus stopped, brows furrowed. “I trust you. You wouldn't hurt me-”

“I told you, I can't control the fire when I-” Sorin grimaced. “Emotions make it _hard_ , okay?”

Cyrus glanced down, and snorted.

Sorin scowled. “No.” A pause. “Shut up. Look, the answer is no. Kissing is as far as I'm willing to go, Cyrus.”

“Okay.” Cyrus kissed his forehead. “Okay. Whatever you're comfortable with.”

Sorin let out a small breath. “I'm comfortable with you changing clothes. You got me all wet.”

Cyrus smirked, and Sorin could have kicked himself for giving the witch another opening, but Cyrus just brushed his hair from his face fondly. “No point in me changing only to get wet all over again.”

“You just want to get me out of my clothes,” Sorin accused.

“Would I do that?” Cyrus stole one last kiss, before disappearing into his bedroom.

Sorin let out another slow breath. Hell below, but he was in deep shit.

By the time he got changed, Cyrus was dry and cleaned up as well. Cyrus grabbed Sorin’s hand the moment he stepped out of the bedroom, and pulled him close. “Come on,” Cyrus murmured. He tugged Sorin over to the couch, and dragged him down with him. He stole a kiss, hand already tangling in Sorin’s red-gold curls, but paused long enough to tease, “You know, just because we aren't in a bed...”

Sorin flushed. “Cyrus-”

“I know,” Cyrus said, kissing him again. And again. “I know. I promise. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Sorin grumbled into the next kiss, but he didn't pull away. This was enough, for now. He was happy, and he didn't want to ever give this up.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Cyrus bolted upright. His phone was ringing. Ringing loudly. That was Angela’s number. Where was his phone? He flung out a hand, and hit papers. Where...?

He snatched it up, and got out a halfway coherent, “Hello?”

“Did I finally catch you at a time where you’re asleep?” Angela’s tone was amused. “Maybe I should call back later.”

Cyrus looked around the mess he’d made of the study. Papers everywhere, books left lying around still open.  He reached up and plucked a post it note from from his hair. “No, no, don't... I'm awake.” After giving a jaw cracking yawn, he stuck the note in the book he’d fallen asleep on to mark his page. “I'm awake. What’s going on?”

“I was looking for that spell you asked about.”

Cyrus rubbed his eyes. “Yeah? You found anything? I haven't, not yet, but...” He’d keep looking. His chair creaked as he stood. “I'm still looking. I can wait.” For a little while longer at least.

“Well, Cy, you don't really have to. I found one. Low energy spell, fire immunity. Should last an hour, give or take.” A pause, and when she spoke again, there was a laugh in her voice. “Will that work?”

“Probably. I should hope so. Maybe. Text it to me? I'm gonna go try it out. Wish me luck?” Cyrus couldn't help grinning.

“Make sure you're being safe, Cyrus.” She hung up, and half a second later she made good on her promise to send it.

He looked it over, muttering the words to himself as he headed for the kitchen. Sorin, sprawled on his couch yet again, stirred as he hurried past. “Whas going on?”

“Spell. Why the hell am I getting matches? I have magic.” Cyrus darted past his sleepy demon again, and into the yard. He stopped by his usual patch of earth. In the middle was a circle of stones around a dip in the ground. Cyrus circled for a few moments before snapping his fingers. He kept forgetting he could use magic to do mundane things. As he held out his hand, and thought, _come_ , a couple split logs floated over.

“Cy. Cyrus. You realize it's like, seven in the morning?”

Cyrus wrinkled his nose, and looked over his shoulder at Sorin. “Go make yourself some coffee, then. I'll come in a minute.”

He heard Sorin mutter something about unnatural, but the demon shuffled back inside, so Cyrus knelt beside the fire pit, and reached for a handful of grass. The moisture dripped out of it as he worked to light the fire, leaving him with dried husks by the time he started a spark. The fire caught quickly, aided by his magic.

Cyrus sat back on his heels and pulled out his phone. He looked the spell over one last time, and then closed his eyes. The words came easily, infused with magic, and they settled around him like a blanket.

Then they were gone, and he felt no different than before. Of course he wouldn't be able to tell. He groaned under his breath. Fine. Fine, he’d test it out. By... right, by sticking his hand in the middle of a mini bonfire he’d built in his yard. Because that couldn't go wrong.

“Cyrus, honestly, what in the hell are you doing?”

Sorin was back. Might as well, before the demon tried to stop him. Cyrus thrust his hand forward until his hand hit the wood in the center of the fire. And... it tickled. That was about it. He felt like someone was sliding feathers along his skin, but there was no heat, and no bite to the flames. “Oh,” Cyrus murmured, a grin tugging at his lips.

Sorin’s hands on his shoulders yanked him back, on his ass in Sorin’s lap, and then Sorin was running his fingers along Cyrus’ arm, tracing the skin. “What the hell, Cyrus? What were you thinking?” The demon demanded.

Cyrus started laughing. He leaned back and rested his head on Sorin’s shoulder. “I'm fine. I'm fireproof. I'm fine. Calm down, Sorin.”

“Calm down? Fireproof? Cyrus what-”

“Try it,” Cyrus insisted. “Go on. Try it.”

Sorin ground his teeth so hard Cyrus swore he could hear it, before the demon obediently let his fire spring to life. Cyrus grabbed the burning hand, ignoring how the demon stiffened.

“More.”

“Cyrus...”

“More! I swear it won't do anything.” Cyrus settled more comfortably against Sorin. “Come on. You _can_ , can't you?”

Sorin snarled something under his breath, but the fire spread, growing brighter as it did. “Are you-”

“It tickles. That's all.”

Sorin’s flames went out, and his head dropped. “I hate you. You scared me to death.” His arms went around Cyrus, holding Cyrus closer. “You made me drop my coffee.”

“I'll make you more if you want,” Cyrus promised. He twisted his head to kiss whatever skin he found first. “I should have told you, but I wanted to try it.”

“What did you do?”

“New spell. I can't burn. At least for the next hour or so.” Cyrus sat up and  scooted away so he could face Sorin. “Angela and I spent all week looking for it.”

“Why would-” Sorin’s eyes went wide. “Oh.”

Cyrus cupped his face with one hand, and kissed the demon. “Yeah. Oh.” He kissed Sorin again, before standing. “Come on. I'll get you some more coffee. Or something.”

“Or something,” Sorin muttered as he let Cyrus haul him to his feet.

Cyrus tipped his head back and laughed. “Yeah, okay, Rin. Or something.”

 

* * *

 

Cyrus lay in the bed, one arm thrown over his eyes. Sorin had gotten up half an hour ago, but he hadn't come back. Cyrus had almost gotten up twice already, but in the end had just lain there,  waiting.

He managed another ten minutes before he gave up and grabbed a pair of sweatpants to pull on. He found Sorin in the kitchen, sitting at the table and fiddling with something in his hands. It was only as Cyrus sat down that he recognized the silver band for what it was.

“Was this morning a dealbreaker for us?” He asked after several minutes of silence. “Should I have waited?” Sorin didn't answer, and so Cyrus said, “I shouldn't have...”

“No,” Sorin said quietly. “It was fine. It was... it was good. It's not that.” He clenched his fist around the ring.

Cyrus thought about reaching for Sorin, but eventually he merely closed his eyes. “What is it, then? What did I do?” When Sorin didn't answer, he looked over. “Sorin, please. Just tell me.”

Sorin gave a hollow laugh. “It's not you, it's me. Hell, could I be anymore cliché?” He shook his head. “Cy, I... I'm sorry. I should have done this a while ago, and I didn't, because I'm stubborn and selfish, and I wanted to hold onto it a bit longer.”

“Being vague as hell isn't helping.”

“I'm ending the deal. It was a sham anyway. I barely knew more than you did.” Sorin reached over to press the ring, chain and all, to Cyrus’ palm. “I'm giving it all back. Your... your mom was a good woman, and I shouldn't have taken that from you.”

Cyrus stared at the ring in his palm. His chest was tight, and when he rubbed absently at his cheeks, his hand came away wet.  “Sorin-”

“I'm sorry.” Sorin reached over, and curled his hand over Cyrus’. “You don't owe me anything, alright? I shouldn't have taken what I did, and I dragged this out longer than I had any right to.” He stood then.

Cyrus almost didn't register that he was leaving. “Hey, no. Where are you going?” He grabbed Sorin’s wrist. “Can you just slow down for five seconds, Sorin?”

“I... the deal is off. I- I have no right to-”

“God, you're an idiot.” Cyrus tightened his grip. “You can stay, Sorin. What if I don't want you to go?”

“I don't know what I could offer you,” Sorin said weakly. “I don't have any more knowledge.”

“I don't want another deal, you stupid-” Cyrus tugged him closer. “I want you. I want you to stay, because I like you, not what you can offer me. Why is that so hard for you to understand?”

“You... but why?”

“Because I like you. Because you make me laugh. Because you're fun to be around. Because, occasionally, you act like an idiot. Because I like your smile, and I like your scowl, and I like it when you blush. I like you, for you, and I want you to stick around.” Cyrus let go of Sorin, then. “If you want to go, then go, but if you're only leaving because you don't feel welcome, then don't you dare step out that door.”

“I don't... I don't understand.” Sorin’s hands clenched at his sides. “After I-”

“Sorin. It's okay. I'm not mad. I'm not. I don't need anything from you, except your happiness. Okay?” All Cyrus got was a nod, but that was enough for now. He tugged Sorin into a hug. “Okay. You can stay whenever, Sorin. Help me with my magic, but you don't have to. I don't care what you do, okay?”

“You’re saying okay a lot.”

“Asshole. I'm trying to be supportive here.”

Sorin gave a rather wet sounding laugh, but didn't lift his head from Cyrus’ shoulder. “You really want me to stay?”

“If I knew more languages I'd say it in other languages. Yes, I want you to stay. For as long as you want. Preferably forever but I'm willing to negotiate, if absolutes intimidate you.”

“Fuck off,” Sorin muttered, but he did slide his arms around Cyrus’ middle.

Cyrus chuckled, and rested his cheek on Sorin’s head, willing to wait. Sorin made him wait, too, for a long time. He clung tightly to Cyrus, fingers digging into Cyrus’ back hard enough Cyrus was pretty sure there’d be bruises, but Cyrus didn't say a word, not until Sorin finally spoke again.

“So, what are we, then?”

Cyrus considered that. “What do you want to be?” He asked, trying to keep his voice gentle.

“Yours.” Sorin huffed. “That's stupid, isn't it?”

“No. Not stupid. I think most people would say that makes us boyfriends, but we don't have to call it that. We could call it partners. Or we could.. yeah, you can be mine, as long as I can be yours.” Probably best to just go with whatever made Sorin most comfortable. It's not like Cyrus cared, so long as he _had_ Sorin.

Sorin pulled back. “Whatever this is, the minute my family finds out, they're going to insist on meeting you. I watched my sisters go through it, and I doubt I'm going to escape the same treatment. I give it a month.”

“Hey. I don't mind. I mean really, how bad could it be? You know what I grew up with.” Cyrus kissed his nose. “It’ll be fine.”

 

* * *

 

Hell was nothing like Cyrus expected. Not that he saw much of it; Sorin opened a portal with their front door and they stepped right into the kitchen of his parent’s house. Cyrus felt bad for assuming it’d be a horrible place filled with hellfire and screams, but it _was_ hell after all. Instead of the hell he’d been expecting, he discovered their house was actually rather modern. And bright. He really hadn't expected the sunny yellow wallpaper.

Sorin’s family was nothing like he’d expected either. They seemed like an y other, although they were very _busy_. It made Cyrus antsy. He felt like he needed to keep an eye on all of them at once. Vera took the most direct interest in Cyrus, and so she was the one he had the most exposure to. She was an intense sort of person, with a rather intimidatingly singular focus on Cyrus at any given moment, but Cyrus found, even if it was a bit unnerving, he could live with it. She didn't feel particularly malevolent. Just... protective.

He didn't really blame her. Even if Sorin didn't see it, Cyrus could tell Sorin’s family cared about him. He could also see how one could get lost in the chaos. When Sorin had said the family, he’d meant cousins too, and grandparents. Cyrus gave up pretty soon into trying to learn all their names. The only one he knew for sure besides Vera was Fax, but that was more from Sorin’s rants and grumblings over the time Cyrus had known him, because Fax didn't show.

Sorin relaxed visibly when it became clear that Fax wasn't going to be coming, and willingly left Cyrus to Vera’s mercies to help out with the cooking. Cyrus didn't mind too much, even if he were aware of at least two pairs of eyes on him at all times. Vera was interesting to talk to, and it didn't take long to get her to explain about Sorin’s inexplicable hatred of that one particular cousin.

“I wish I could blame one specific person,” she admitted quietly. “Ma and dad, maybe for being too busy to really do anything with any of us. Or our grandfather, for putting such an expectation on him and Fairfax and Kit about that stupid fire. But you could easily blame me, or Dione for not noticing until later. We were just as quick to shunt him to the side. Fax was the one to take him under his wing.”

“I don't get it, then. Why would he hate Fax for that? That's what I don't understand.”

Vera snorted. “Well, Fax is an oblivious idiot, and both my grandfather and my mother don't see the issues pitting them against each other. Fax didn't see, and Sorin hated that the same person who was leagues ahead of him was acting so nice. Only explanation is pity, right?” She rolled her eyes. “They're both idiots, but then again, maybe so are the rest of us are for not noticing sooner. Wine?”

He shook his head at the bottle she offered him. “Is that it, then? A rivalry gone bad?”

Vera shook her head. “A rivalry would need two willing and aware parties. Or you’d think so, at least.” She drummed her nails on the bottle, red-brown eyes narrowed in thought. “We haven't been able to do anything about it.”

Cyrus shot her a dry look. “Let me guess: you want me to try.”

“He trusted you enough to screw you. I'm sure you can manage.” She gave a deliberate sniff before she tapped his cheek lightly, and sauntered off.

God save him from bossy demons. Cyrus puffed out a breath, and touched the ring beneath his shirt. Despite the intensity of Vera, and the constant motion of the house, Cyrus found he didn't mind Sorin’s family. He thought, at first, that he would end up underfoot and tried to stay out of the way, but soon enough he merely got absorbed into the chaos.

Chaos really was accurate; within an hour of getting there, Lorne had managed to irritate half of the demons there, and Kit had accidentally set one of the dish towels on fire while yelling at him. Cyrus never did figure out what Lorne had said to set her off.

It was a little unnerving to realize that the grandparents looked roughly the same age as everyone else here. Immortality was not something Cyrus had quite adjusted his mindview to yet. His own grandmother would have stayed in her late thirties forever if she hadn't gotten in that car accident, and he was only slowly coming to terms with the fact that he himself was stuck at twenty six. He tried not to think about it often.

Sorin sidled up to him as the other demons started migrating towards the table. “You holding up okay?”

“Yeah. Etta has a weird sense of humor, and Vera’s a little much, but I like them.” Cyrus slid a hand in Sorin’s back pocket. “What? Did you think they’d chase me off?”

“No,” Sorin said unconvincingly. He still leaned up to steal a kiss, though. “Come on, let's get a seat before they conveniently separate us on opposite ends of the table.”

Cyrus laughed, but it turned out to be a legitimate threat. Sorin ended up bullying Lorne out of his chair with a well aimed spark to make sure he and Cyrus could sit down together. Cyrus regretfully removed his hand from Sorin’s pocket, only to twine their fingers together as soon as they sat down. “I feel like I'm in middle school again, holding hands under the table,” Cyrus murmured.

Sorin flushed. He squeezed Cyrus’s hand, though. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Oh? I'm ridiculous? You’re the one that tried to set your cousin on fire so we could do this.” Cyrus lifted their hands and pressed a kiss to Sorin’s knuckles. Sorin’s flush deepened, much to Cyrus’ delight. And to the amusement of several demons watching them, too.

“Well,” the blonde to Cyrus’ left murmured. Dione, Cyrus finally remembered. Sorin’s other sister. “I certainly like you better than that T... Terrance? Timothy?”

“Taegan,” Sorin corrected. “You know damn well what his name is.”

“I don't like him. I shall call him whatever I like,” Dione shot back as she waved her wineglass, cheeks flushed. “He only liked you because of grandpa.”

“What do you mean liked? Tae still hangs out with me.” Sorin flipped his sister off.

Cyrus grimaced. He’d met Taegan once or twice; he didn't hate the demon, but there was something about him that rubbed Cyrus the wrong way. Sorin liked him, though, and Cy didn't want cause problems when it was just a mild dislike.

“Yeah, because you’re going places. That's the only reason,” Lorne muttered, and then yelped. He shot a glare across the table at Kit, who blinked innocently, and then asked her if he would pass the potatoes.

The rest of the family picked up on the subject change quick enough, and soon they were poking fun at Dione for her inability to hold her wine. The mood swung back to boisterous quickly, and the moment was gone without another comment.

Cyrus never let go of Sorin’s hand the entire time they were there. Sorin seemed pleased with this, but every time Cyrus leaned over to kiss his temple, or his fingers, the demon turned bright red. It was an entertaining game, waiting to see when he could catch Sorin by surprise, but eventually he ended up leaning against Sorin and letting the conversation wash over and around him.

The next thing he knew, Sorin was shaking him awake gently. “Come on. Let's get you home.” Cyrus blinked sleepily. “You need more sleep than we do. They understand. You should be in bed.”

“Ass,” Cyrus muttered, sitting up and rubbing his face.

“Keep talking like that and I think you might convince them you actually like me or something.” Sorin kissed him briefly, before tugging him to his feet and herding him out the door, tossing goodbyes for both of them over his shoulder.

“Told you,” Cyrus murmured when they got home. “That wasn't so bad.”

“And if I said they want to do that again next week?”

Cyrus groaned.

“Kidding, Cy.”

 

* * *

 

"Are you drunk?" Cyrus squinted over the top of his book at Sorin, who was listing to the side somewhat, and blinking owlishly at him. When Sorin didn't answer, Cyrus slowly lowered the book and set it to the side. “Are you alright?” He asked, a bit cautious this time.

Sorin shook his head, once, and then wandered over to sit gracelessly on the couch next to Cyrus. He was ramrod straight for all of two seconds. After that he collapsed alarmingly against Cyrus, using the witch’s shoulder as a pillow. “It's not fair.”

Cyrus counted to ten, let out a breath, and then asked lightly, “What's not fair?”

“Life. People. Everything.”

“That was specific,” Cyrus said dryly.

Sorin shook his head against Cyrus’s shoulder. “It's just, I can't...” He trailed off, and the silence stretched long enough that Cyrus started tugging at a loose strand of his shirt. “I can't live up to that image they've built of my cousin. I'm trying so hard, and any little mistake I make, they remind me that the great Fairfax could do better than that. Well, yeah, he was a fucking prodigy. He didn't have to work for anything, it felt like, and he was always so _calm_. I hate him, with those stupid, kind smiles, and that stupid encouragement, like he didn't know it was eating me up that I will never be as good as him.”

Cyrus listened with a frown, and reached up to run his fingers through Sorin’s hair. The demon sniffed, and straightened up to stare at Cyrus with what looked like tears in his eyes.

“He left. He left, and they still use him as a standard, like he’s something to measure up to. Like abandoning hell and every opportunity thrust at him is something to be proud of. If power is all it takes to be great then I want that. He never had to work for this, like I did.”

“Sor-”

“Don't. Not that.” Sorin swiped angrily at his eyes. “I'm just so pissed that he walked away. I was working so hard to catch up, to be as good as he was. If I could best him, and prove it, maybe they’d stop cramming his accomplishments down my throat. But he /left, dammit, he left, and I can't- I can't stand that not only will I never prove to myself that I'm good enough, but I'm never going to be able to prove to the rest of them either. I will always be second best, and second choice.”

Cyrus reached out, cupping his face carefully. “Sorin. Sorin, you are not second best. And I swear to god, you are never going to be my second choice. Who cares what they think?”

“I do.” Sorin tried his best to press his lips into a stubborn line, but it wobbled. “I care. I have to listen to them, don't I?”

Cyrus sighed, and brushed his thumbs across Sorin’s cheeks. “No, not really. I know its hard and it sucks and it isn't fair, but you can ignore them. So what, they don't think you're as good? They don't know you like I do. I think you're pretty cool, alright? Smart, and talented, and a little impulsive, but you’re you, not your cousin, alright? You are a whole nother person, and you don't have to measure up to him. You just have to be the best you. Whatever that is.”

Sorin stared at him for a long moment. Finally, he muttered, “You're an idiot.” Still, his shoulders slumped. He scooted back and then stretched out with his head in Cyrus’ lap. “It doesn't work like that.”

“Sure it does.” Cyrus brushed Sorin’s hair from his eyes. “You’ll be a lot happier when you start seeing things my way, I promise.”

“I'll be happiest when I prove I'm better than him.” Sorin’s eyes closed as Cyrus’s fingers traced down the bridge of his nose. “Maybe they’ll shut up, then.”

Cyrus sighed. He wasn't winning this argument tonight, especially not now that Sorin was drifting off. Cyrus gave a fond tug to one of the strawberry curls. He’d try again later, then.

 

* * *

 

Sorin had been busy the past several days. He wasn't sure how he’d gotten so attached to Cyrus that a few days felt like an eternity when he wasn't with his witch, but he was relieved that he was going back to see Cy. He did feel kind of bad that it had taken him twice as long as expected to come back, but he knew that Cyrus had kept busy. Something about Angela dragging him off to a flea market to see if he couldn't learn how to recognize enchanted objects. At least he knew that Fabius hadn't gone as well.

It wasn't that he really thought that Cyrus saw anything in the demon, but everytime they hung out Cyrus came back with a knowing expression, like Fabius had managed to impart some information about Sorin that Sorin really did not want Cyrus knowing. That wasn't too far from the realm of possibility, knowing how much Vera like to gossip with Fabius. Nothing particularly annoying had come of Cyrus' friendship with the other demon, at least not yet, but Sorin didn't want to keep pushing his luck.

He ducked through the portal, visibly relaxing as he stepped inside Cy’s bedroom. The plan had been to catch the witch waking up, but the bed was already made and Cyrus was nowhere to be found. Sorin frowned, and turned on his heel to go looking.

Cyrus wasn't in the living room, and he wasn't in the kitchen. The study was empty as well. It wasn't until Sorin trooped outside and followed Cyrus’s scent that he found the witch perched on a large rock in the middle of the river. He sat cross legged, eyes closed and hands glowing as the river flowed seamlessly around the boulder on which he perched. Sorin found a tree to lean against, and waited for Cyrus to finish whatever spell he was doing.

It took several minutes of quiet chanting before Cyrus stretched, the glow fading from his hands. He scooped up something from the rock, and stood, turning. When he saw Sorin, his face lit up. With a wave of his hand he stopped the river in its tracks long enough to hop along the rocky bed and onto the shore.

Cyrus pulled him into a kiss before he got the chance to say hello. Not that Sorin minded. Cyrus grinned, lacing their fingers together with his free hand, and tugged him back towards the house. “I missed you,” Cyrus said.

Sorin’s mouth twitched up of its own accord. “Missed you too, Cy. What were you doing?”

“Making you a gift.” Cy ruffled Sorin’s curls despite the demon’s protests. Sorin batted at his hand, and tried to grab it again.

“What gift?” Sorin demanded when they were holding hands again. He pushed open the front door for them. “Or are you going to play that game where you make me guess?”

Cyrus laughed. “Don't tempt me, Rin.” He sat down and tugged Sorin in his lap. They let themselves get distracted by kisses for a few moments, but Cyrus eventually pushed Sorin back. Something glinted dully in the hand he held up between them.

Rings. Cyrus had gotten him rings. Sorin tried not to over think what that meant. He stared anyway, chest tight. Cyrus had gotten a pair of rings for them.

The rings were identical. The texture was almost rough, as if someone had taken a hammer to the metal before shaping it into a ring, but somehow like that was the point. “Cy-”

When he looked up, Cyrus was smiling again. “I, uh, don't expect you to wear it if you don't want to, but...” He reached for Sorin’s hand, and pressed one of the rings into his palm. Just like that, Sorin felt Cyrus, somewhere deep in his magic. He didn't know how to describe it other than that. He could feel Sorin, just as clearly as he could see him. “You've been fussing about angels and demons and the dangers of the supernatural. I thought this might help. You don't have to, I can find another solution, but I thought maybe it might work. You’ll be able to tell where I am, and it’ll start heating up if I'm in danger. And it’ll go both ways.”

“Cyrus,” Sorin said numbly, looking between the two rings and the witch who kept surprising him over and over.

“The only downside is no more playing hide and seek, I guess,” Cyrus teased lightly. Sorin looked up, and saw Cy’s smile was wobbling.

“Thank you,” Sorin said, sliding the ring on carefully. He cupped Cyrus’s face. “It's perfect.”

“Oh, thank God. I was worried it was a bit much,” Cyrus said, before closing the space between them to kiss him.

Sorin snorted, leaning back. “God doesn't look out for the likes of us, Cy. We look out for ourselves.”

“You have got to get over that phrase.” Cyrus flicked his nose, but smiled when Sorin grabbed his hand. He leaned close, chasing Sorin down for another kiss. “I thought the rings might calm you down a bit.”

“Are you accusing me of being overbearing?”

“You said it, not me,” Cyrus pointed out. “Maybe you’ll let me help you with whatever it is you do when you disappear for days at a time, now. I'm about ready to start tracking you everytime you go, so you might as well.”

Sorin reared back, eyes wide. “What? Why- What?” He hadn't expected the accusational tone. Not from Cyrus.

“Oh come on. You can't think that I don't notice that half the time you come back pissy. Sure you calm down fast but maybe if I come along I can help fix whatever is irritating you so much.” Cyrus pulled the chain from underneath his shirt and undid the clasp so he could slide his ring onto the chain alongside his mother's. “And I'm tired of you dodging my questions, while we’re on the subject of things I’ve noticed. There's this thing, it's called communication. Why don't you tell me what you're working on and we can figure it out together.”

“Cyrus,” Sorin tried, but he already knew he wasn't going to win this one. He rubbed his face with the heel of his palm. “It's... it's personal, is all. I didn't want to drag you into it.”

“You drag me into it every damn time I have to stop you from walking a hole in my floor, Sorin. Just tell me, already.”

Sorin grimaced, but he admitted, “I'm going to make my cousin come home. And then I'm going to destroy him.”

He felt Cyrus still underneath him. Panic hit him abruptly and his heart into overdrive. Maybe that’d been too direct. Cyrus knew how much Fairfax ate at him. He knew, didn't he?

“What do you mean, destroy him?” Cyrus asked, voice oddly quiet.

“I am going to make it clear that I am better than him in any and every way. He lives on earth, with a fucking angel, and plays house, and they keep telling me I should be like him. That his power is some standard to meet, like running away and bending an angel over is something to be fucking proud of. Well fine. I'll show them. I'll meet their damn standards in a way they can't deny. He can't be better than me if he’s dead.”

Cyrus’ eyes were wide, and he didn't say anything. Sorin swallowed hard. It was too much, wasn't it? Why didn't anyone else understand how much it fucking tore at him? He was never good enough. He was never _enough_ , period. It was always be like Vera, be like grandfather, be like Fax, like Fax, like _Fax_.

“I'm better than him. I know I am,” he said desperately. The words came too fast, and burned on the way out. “I'm strong, and I've learned everything grandfather can teach me, and I've learned everything other demons can teach me, and I've never been more in control of my fire as I am now, and I can do this, I can, I just have to get it right. I have to get it all right.” And damn it all, his voice had started to shake, and his breaths came too fast, and he was seconds away from bursting into tears.

Cyrus’ hands grabbed his face before he could look away. “Hey, no. What have I told you? You are strong, and I know it. You know it.” Not this again. Cyrus pressed their foreheads together before he could say anything. “Is this what you need? Is this what will make this better?” A hand dropped to press against his chest. “I hate seeing you like this, Rin. You're better than this. Will besting your cousin fix whatever hole is here?”

“I-” His voice broke then, and he closed his eyes. “Yes. I have to. I need to prove... I need this.”

Cyrus kissed his forehead. “Okay. Okay. You need it. I believe you. I'll help. Okay? We’ll figure it out. But no more running around without me. We work better when we’re a team. Let me help. I'll keep things on the right path.”

Sorin fisted a hand in Cyrus’s shirt as his head dropped to the witch’s shoulder. “Okay.” He took a shuddery breath, and then another. “You can help.”

Cyrus’ hand rubbed his back. “Things will work out. I'll make sure of it. And then maybe you can heal, yeah?”

“If anyone can, you can, Cy.” Sorin’s laugh was weak, but neither commented on it.

“That's the spirit,” Cyrus said instead, softly. “Trust me.”


	10. Part Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fax goes looking for Lev, and turns to family for help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is character death in this scene, and the aftermath of torture, so just a heads up!

Fax stood at Sorin’s front door, and promised himself his cousin would help. Sorin was the family member who would ask few questions. He didn't expect the stranger who opened the door. Whoever he was, he was tall, dressed in all black, and a slight frown tugged at his lips. He braced a ringed hand on the doorway, but Fax spoke before this stranger could.

“Is Sorin here?” Fax held himself in place through will alone. He wanted desperately to push past and find his cousin right now.

The stranger’s mouth tipped down further. Still, he twisted slightly to call over his shoulder, “Sorin. He came.” And then he stepped back, waving a hand for Fax to come inside.

Sorin met them before Fax got more than a few steps inside. Fax relaxed visibly at the familiar fire in his cousin’s eyes. He’d always had such drive. If anyone could get things done and help him, it was Sorin. “I need your help.”

Sorin blinked, his expression faltering. “You’re... you’re not here because you got my note?”

Fax stared at him blankly. “You sent me a note?” When Sorin stared blankly he shook his head. “I didn't get it, I'm sorry.” Guilt tore through him. He had been a shit cousin, and dropped everything to mope, and then to spend time with Lev, and then repeated the damn cycle. Still, he had to try. “I need your help, Sor. Will you?”

His cousin stared at him a moment longer than comfortable, then shook his head. “Yeah, no, of course. What is it?”

“I... Lev and I worked things out, but he’s gone, Sor.” Fax rubbed his hand through his hair. “Someone took him. The kitchen smelled like hell, and there was banana bread burning in the oven. He didn't go because he wanted to.”

Sorin wrinkled his nose. “Banana bread?”

“He thinks I like it, and I haven't been able to tell him how much I hate bananas yet.” Fax shot Sorin a helpless look. “That's not the point.”

“Are you sure he didn't leave willingly?” Sorin asked, brows furrowing.

Fax shook his head. “No. No. He hates leaving the house without me. I told you what he’s like. He wouldn't leave, not like that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and then reached up shakily to push his hair from his face again. “Sor, I'm worried, and I- I don't want- I can't let anything happen to him. He’s been through enough. They took his wings, for loving me. Hell doesn't need to punish him too.”

Sorin grabbed Fax’s hands, squeezing them so tight it was almost painful. “Hey. We’ll find him. I promise you that. Cyrus,” he nodded at the man who’d opened the door and was now hovering nearby with that frown still on his face, “is a witch. He can try tracking your angel. If you don't mind, Cy?”

Fax swung his attention to the witch. He couldn't force anything out, and so he just stood there, hands still clasped in Sorin’s scorching grip as he waited. The witch shrugged, frown deepening. He disappeared into another room, and came back with a notebook, flipping through the pages. The light glinting off his rings was distracting, and Fax welcomed it to the aching weight of anxiety in his chest.

“Thanks, Cy.” Sorin all but crushed Fax’s hands to get his attention. “Cyrus is the best witch I know. He’ll find your little angel in no time.”

Cyrus snorted softly behind them. “Flattery is pointless, Sorin, when you already get what you want from me.”

Sorin muttered something under his breath, and let go of Fax. “If-”

“Shut _up_ , Rin, or I'll never get this done.” Cyrus didn't even sound annoyed, but Sorin shut up. Fax decided not to ask.

The witch eventually closed his eyes and murmured something under his breath. His fingers danced in tempo with the words, and when he opened his eyes at the end of the spell they flashed gold for the briefest of moments. “I know where he is.”

That easy? Fax could hardly dare to hope. Sorin’s hand was heavy, grounding, when it rested on his shoulder. “Lead the way, Cy.”

Cyrus snapped the book shut, and tossed it on a nearby chair. “Come on.” He snagged a dark jacket off the coat hook by the door. “It’s an emergency, isn't it?”

Fax didn't have to be told twice, but Sorin pulled him back, just for a moment. “I didn't realize you trusted me enough to come to me for help, of all people. You don't know what that means to me, Fax.”

Fax stared at him for a moment, and then gave a weak grin. “Course I trust you, Sor. You’re family.” He reached up and ruffled Sorin’s curls. Sorin knocked his hand away, but before Sorin could say anything, Cyrus was calling for them. Sorin snorted, and hurried after the witch. Some things never changed, Fax supposed.

“I need quiet to concentrate,” Cyrus warned when they caught up. “That means no snark and no complaining, Sorin. Because we all know you don’t know what quiet means.”

“Bite me,” Sorin muttered.

Fax had to hide a smile as Cyrus merely said, “Later, sweetheart. We’ve got things to do right now.”

To Fax’s surprise, the tips of Sorin’s ears went pink. Interesting. Fax had the tact to keep his mouth shut. Even if being quiet meant he had more time to worry. Hell was large, and chaotic. It was a mess of hellscapes and cities, and passages that connected it all. It was constantly growing and changing. Fax didn't doubt Cyrus’ abilities (if Sorin trusted him, Fax trusted him), but he did worry that it would take far too long, if only because Fax didn't know how long Lev had been in the hands of whoever kidnapped him.

They walked for a good half hour through the winding, senseless streets of this particular city. Occasionally, a demon would pause and stare at Cyrus for a moment longer than polite. It wasn't unheard of to have a living witch in hell, but it was unusual. Cyrus kept his chin up, and ignored the looks, or pretended to at least. Fax couldn't quite tell, and he was afraid to ask.

The witch slammed to a stop outside a nondescript building, and flicked an unreadable look at Sorin before nodding at the building. “He’s in there.” He closed his eyes, tapping a staccato rhythm on his leg. “First hallway, third door on the left... and he’s alone.”

Fax didn't wait for the others. He delved into his magic as he darted through the doors. Behind him he could hear Sorin call his name, but he didn't have time to listen. First hallway, three doors down on the left, and when he threw the door open, there was Lev, tied to a chair in the back of the mostly empty room, slumped forward against the bindings. Fax gave a choked noise, and let the fire on his fingertips die as he rushed to get to his angel.

He hit a barrier before he could. The invisible force stopped him inches from Lev. Panic rose in his chest as he slammed his fist against the barrier. Cuts and bruises littered the angel’s form, but that was nothing compared to what Fax saw when Lev sat up completely, gaze lifting to meet Fax’s.

They had branded the word please across his chest. The letters were a bright, angry red against Lev’s skin, and for a moment that was all Fax knew in the world. What had they _done_ to him? He pressed his hands to the barrier, as if wishing it away would make it vanish.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Lev was whispering. “Fax you shouldn't be here. No, no, please, you can't-”

Fax flinched at the please. How many times had he jokingly said Lev’s please would be the death of him some day? He felt like he really was dying. He couldn't breathe, and he couldn't get to Lev, he couldn't do anything except stare as Lev continued to babble.

“Fax, you have to go, he wants _you_ , Fax. It was Sorin, _Fax_.”

And then Lev went silent, as if someone had flicked a switch. The angel stared over his shoulder, eyes wide with terror. Fax turned, unsure of what he'd find.

Sorin was leaning against the doorway, a tiny smile pulling at his lips. “Hello, Levant. Been a couple of hours, hasn't it? How are you feeling?”

Fax stopped breathing. Distantly he could hear Lev’s panicked sob, but Sorin was just standing there, smiling, and it didn't make any sense. It didn't. Fax scrambled to think of a logical explanation. “Sorin, what-”

“Hell below, Fax, are you still trying to figure this out?” Sorin took a single, lazy step inside the room. Behind Fax, Lev gave another exhausted sob. “I shouldn't be surprised, really. You went crawling back to that cowardly sack of shit once you got done moping. You have no damn sense of self preservation, do you? You trust too easy, Fairfax.”

Behind his cousin, Cyrus lurked in the doorway, expression carefully neutral. Fax didn't dare risk much more than a glance at him before he snapped his attention back to Sorin. “I don't understand,” he said, trying to get his voice to steady. “Is this about Lev? Because he’s an angel? I told you, Sor, he’s not like them. I swear he isn't.”

“No, you idiot. It isn't because of little Levant over there. The fact that you think tumbling an angel and playing house with one is okay after what they do to our kind pisses me off, sure, but I was angry years before he came into the picture. He might have been the cherry on top, but this? This is all you.”

“I don't understand,” Fax said, and this time his voice cracked. Behind him, Lev gave another whispered plea, and it felt like someone had slipped a dagger into Fax’s heart. “What did I do, Sor?”

“What didn't you do?” Sorin snarled. He prowled forward another step. “You were always better than me, and then you’d turn around and pretend like you didn't know it ate me up every time you knocked me on my ass. You were always patting me on the head and treating me like a kid, and everyone was always telling me I should be like you, the stupid bundle of sunshine who could do no wrong.” Sorin’s eyes were ablaze with a hatred Fax had never seen before.

Or maybe he had, and just never interpreted it right. Fax pressed himself against the barrier, suddenly very glad it was there. He might not be able to get to Lev, but neither could Sorin. “Sor, I never meant-”

“And then you left. You _left_ , and I was stuck with these expectations. Be like Fax, fight like Fax, smile like Fax, always about you. I was never good enough. They didn't even care about your angel. Be happy, like Fax, because sitting on your ass and staring at weeds is such a damn accomplishment.” Sorin sucked in a breath, and Fax could see the pain behind his anger. He could hear it in the slight wobble of Sorin’s words. “I could never live up to that. I'm not you. But I am better, now.”

Fax lifted his hands slowly. “You aren't supposed to be me, Sorin. I'm sorry they tried to make you be. We're not the same person, and what makes me who I am won't be the thing that shapes you. And I'm sorry that I didn't see that I was hurting you. I just wanted to help. I thought I was helping. You always told me you wanted a challenge.”

Sorin’s mouth twisted in a sneer. “I wanted to prove I'm better than you. Maybe that will finally shut them up.” His blue-white flames crawled up his hand as he stepped closer yet again.

“I know how obsessive you get. You probably are better than me. I stopped caring about that sort of thing years ago.” Fax refused to reach for his own magic. “What do you want from me, Sorin? Prove you’re better than me, if you want, if that will make you happy. I don't care, I promise.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Sorin flung up a hand, and his flames shot across the room. Fax waved them away before they could touch him. “Apathy won't save you, Fax. I told you, years ago, happiness is something you have to take. I'm tired of being second best, and I'm tired of this ache in me. I'm going to carve my own happiness out of you, and yours.”

“Sorin, this isn't- you don't have to- that's not how happiness works.” Fax lifted his hands again, a feeble attempt to placate his cousin.

“I kind of do,” Sorin said, before twisting his wrist and thrusting his palm towards Fax.

Fax threw up his own fire, blocking Sorin’s flames with a red-gold shield. “Sorin,” he tried, letting the magic fade away. He nearly got a face full of white fire for his troubles. Normally he would have tried backing away, but he didn't trust whatever barrier was erected between him and Lev to hold forever. Especially not as the witch stepped inside the room and closed the door with a flick of a finger.

Fax stepped closer, away from Lev, and in hopes of calming his cousin with hands spread wide in the universal ‘don't shoot’ gesture. “Sorin. Come on.”

“Fight back, Fax, or die like the coward I'm beginning to suspect you are,” was Sorin’s response. He lunged and grabbed Fax by the collar. Fax was dragged close before he could dig his heels in. “When are you going to stop running away, Fax? At least your little angel is open about his fear. I can respect that, if not the fear itself.”

“I'm not running away,” Fax protested, before pulling himself free. “I'm right here, Sorin. I'm right here. And I'm not going anywhere.”

“You're running away from me right now,” Sorin snarled. “You can't help it, can you? Always backing away, always backing off. You ran away from home, and you ran away when your angel stabbed you in the back, and you’re running away as you deflect now. Grow a fucking spine before I rip one out of you.”

“It's not bravery to fight my own kin.” Fax dodged the wall of fire aimed at him, and darted close. He meant to startle Sorin, and maybe slam him into the wall so he could talk sense into him, but his cousin neatly hooked a foot around his ankle and sent him crashing to the ground.

Sorin was quick to pounce, and his extra height and bulk added a weight Fax wouldn't have been able to compete with, but Fax had already been rolling, and with a bit of luck Fax ended up on top. He was quick to pin Sorin to the ground. Sorin glared up at him as they panted.

“Sorin, tell me what to do to fix this.” Fax was begging, pleading. It still didn't quite add up, he still didn't understand, but he still said desperately, “Let me fix this. Let me help. Let me.”

“Shut _up_!” Sorin bucked up, and his magic hit Fax square in the chest.

Fax registered the burn of it, and then he collided with the wall. Nothing in the world could have made him get up when he crumpled. His ears were ringing and the scent of singed clothes filled his nose. Breathing had become an impossibility.

He scrabbled to stand anyway when he realized Sorin was crouched in front of him. Sorin dragged him the rest of the way by the front of his shirt. “Fight back, Fax. Don't make this easy on me.” Sorin shoved him against the wall again. “Fight _back_ , damn you.”

“ _Fax_.” Lev’s cry was little more than a broken whimper, but it was desperate. Panic swelled in Fax’s throat. After what Lev had been through already, he didn't need Fax backing down and leaving them both to the mercies of Sorin’s temper. Fax dug deep, burrowing into his fire, and shoved back at Sorin with both magic and his body.

Sorin staggered halfway across the room, eyes wide. Fax had a moment to hope that would be the end of it. Fax was, of course, a fool. Sorin grinned, the expression slow and hungry. He spread his arms wide, flames pooling at his fingertips.

“That's more like it,” Sorin purred, before throwing all he had at Fax.

Fax only barely managed to shield himself. He could feel the heat of his cousin’s magic this time, and he didn't quite dare step away from the wall. Sorin wasn't going to stop. He just wasn't. Fax hated to admit this, but the only way for his cousin to see sense was to beat him at this stupid game. Fax breathed deep and thrust a hand out. Golden fire cut through the blue-white of Sorin’s magic, but the reprieve was brief.

Magic is like a muscle, or like learning a language. If you stop using it, it weakens, and you lose some of it. Fax had spent the last couple of decades doing very little with his power. In the grand scheme of things, lighting cigarettes and fireplaces and the occasional angel didn't count as real practice.

Sorin, however, had worked, and trained, and practiced, and learned, and it showed. Fax knew he was outclassed moments after putting his every effort into winning. He simply didn't have the skill. He tried, though, and fought valiantly to keep up with Sorin. For every spurt of flame or twist away Sorin was there, batting his magic aside as if it were a fly, and blocking any effort to get space between them. Sweat slid down Fax’s back, and every time he tried to advance he found himself knocked back against the wall again, or towards that barrier, which still held, though he didn't know how.

A glance at the witch gave him the answer. Cyrus had one hand raised, a faint glow on his fingers, and strain carved on his face, though his arm never wavered.  Gratitude welled in Fax’s chest, though it was short lived. Sorin was in his face again, flames dripping off of him.

“You don't touch him,” Sorin snarled, a new edge to his voice. The heat of his magic rose as he backed Fax into the corner between the barrier and the wall.

“I wasn't-” It was no use, and so Fax didn't try to finish. Instead he pulled at his magic, even though he was growing tired, and used his flames to force Sorin back a step, and then two.

Despite that little victory, it was clear that Sorin was just playing with him. When Sorin grew bored, he reached through the flames to grab Fax by the throat. Fax stilled, his fire dying as he stared up at his cousin. One of Sorin’s hands was raised behind him, still  crackling with white magic. For several moments the only sound in the room was their heavy breathing and Sorin’s magic.

Sorin’s hand lowered fractionally, the magic dying off, and his mouth wobbled. Fax hated the emotions raging in his cousin's eyes. This was Fax’s fault, for somehow never noticing how much Sorin had been hurting. For all he’d claimed to care about how his cousin had been ignored and shunted to the side, he’d not seen anymore than the rest of his family.

“It's okay, Sor,” he said.

Sorin’s eyes flashed and everything exploded into motion. Sorin’s hand clapped over Fax’s mouth, Fax’s vision went white, and he felt Sorin’s fire in every atom of his being.

And so Fax burned, and burned, and burned.

And then he felt nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, y'all are as caught up as tumblr. I have no idea when Part Seven will be done; it could be in a week, could be in a few days, but I am working on it, and will have it up asap!


	11. Part Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some brief mentions of the aftereffects of torture, just a heads up, friends!

Cyrus hadn’t known that an angel could scream like that. The screams sent a shudder down his spine, and his chest tightened in sympathy. How Sorin seemed unaffected by the broken sound was beyond Cyrus.

Cyrus’ fingers still glowed with magic as he cast a new spell. He threw a hand up in a sharp motion, and then swept it to the side. Sorin was knocked back from Fax’s body. Cyrus gave a flick of his wrist, drawing on Sorin’s own magic to fuel his spells, and trying not to let Levant’s cries distract him as he erected a barrier between Sorin and the rest of the room.

A snap of his fingers had the bindings on the angel falling away. Lev had been straining forward against them so far that with the ropes gone he tumbled from the chair with a harsh thud. Cyrus winced, and started towards him. Lev was already dragging himself to Fax’s still form. Each sob from the angel tore at Cyrus, reminding him just how badly he’d failed. He should have done more to control the situation before it escalated like that.

“Cy, take the damn barrier down,” Sorin snarled, distracting him.

Cyrus turned to face Sorin, already shaking his head. “You’ve done enough, Rin.”

“The hell I have. Let me out.”

“I didn’t agree to this, Rin. You said you’d scare the angel. The hell is this?” Cyrus clamped down on his magic, even as it roiled in his blood, egged on by the magic he was siphoning from Sorin.

“Why are you defending an angel?” Sorin snarled.

Cyrus pursed his lips. “Do you even hear yourself? Do you hear  _him_?”

Sorin had the grace to look ashamed at that. Cyrus closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’m taking him home, Rin.” He waved a hand, letting the barrier drop as he turned back to Lev. Sorin wouldn’t hurt him, no matter his feelings towards the angel.

The angel didn’t even look up from where he hunched over Fax’s still form. His good hand was pressed to Fax’s cheek, and while his sobs were slowly dying off, tears rolled relentlessly down his cheeks. Cyrus swallowed hard. The angel’s back was ripped open, little more than a raw mass of ragged cuts. Cyrus knew his front was no better. What in the hell had possessed Sorin to  _brand_  this pitiful creature?

Cyrus was slow to kneel beside Lev, not wanting to startle him. “Levant?” He tried softly. No reaction. “Levant.”

Slowly, so very slowly, Levant looked to him. His gaze was flat, and he didn’t bother to wipe away his tears. “Is it my turn?”

Cyrus thought he might be sick. “No. No, no, of course not- I’m so sorry.” He tried to find a safe place to rest his hand, but everything was cut or bloody or broken or bruised and, dear God, maybe he really was going to be sick.

Lev’s expression somehow flattened even more. “Please,” he said softly.

“No. I’m sorry, but no.” Cyrus found a safe place to put his hand. “I’m not… nothing more is going to happen to you. I’m taking you home, alright?”

There were no words to describe the dead look the angel gave him. Lev turned back to Fax. “He is my home. Was…was my home.”

Cyrus closed his eyes for a moment. “Can you stand?”

“I don’t want to.” When he made himself look at the angel, Lev was hunched over his broken hand, watching Fax’s still face. “I want Fax. I want to stay with him. I want-” His voice cracked. “Please.”

“He’s going home too. I’ll take care of everything. Okay?” Cyrus looked over at Sorin. “Could you maybe-”

Asking for Sorin’s help wasn’t an option. And not for the reason Cyrus had expected. Sorin looked like he’d seen a ghost. His blank stare was no better than the angel’s. Cyrus took a deep breath. Fine. He could do this.

“Levant, I’m going to get you both home. Alright?” Cyrus reached for his magic, latching onto Sorin’s power to help fuel what he needed. “I need you to try to stand, okay? Yeah? I can’t carry you and Fax.”

It took a lot more coaxing, and half lifting the angel himself to get Lev to stand. The moment he let go Lev crumpled, too fast for Cyrus to catch. Cyrus swore, and apologized, and then gave up saying anything when he realized Lev wasn’t going to respond, anyway.

He rocked back on his heels, utterly frustrated with the situation. Lev had already curled up at Fax’s side, and gone still. After frowning down at them - Cyrus didn’t want to think about how he would react if he lost Sorin like this - he gave a tiny sigh. “Please work with me,” he muttered, before tapping into Sorin’s magic again so he could cast another spell. It wasn’t like Sorin was using the magic, and maybe it was better, in the long run, if he used the last of it. He didn’t need Sorin deciding the best solution was to start spewing fire again.

Another a quick spell and a complicated twist of his wrist later, Cyrus attempted to get Lev to stand. It still took coaxing, but this time Lev’s blank expression had a little confusion to it. “I took the pain. The spell won’t last long, and it’ll be worse when it wears off.”

Lev continued to stare, and so Cyrus sighed and knelt to scoop up Fax. Limp as the demon was, it was all around awkward, but Cyrus managed. He could do this. He could.

He’d guessed right; Lev followed as if a string attached him and Fax, unable to stay too far away. Another thought he had to push away, because if he lingered too long he didn’t think he’d have the strength to get this done.

“Rin, open a portal,” Cyrus ordered, hoping that Sorin would listen. To his surprise, Sorin did. He’d expected Sorin to ignore him. At least this meant he didn’t have to tell Sorin about the spell Angela had given him to rip one open in the fabric of hell itself. She’d warned him demons wouldn’t take kindly to that sort of information floating around.

Sorin backed away as soon as he’d pushed open the door, gaze averted and fists clenched. Cyrus paused long enough to say, “I’ll be back. Wait for me, alright?” before he stepped through the portal and turned to make sure Lev made it through as well. Cyrus felt a little bit bad that he didn’t trust Sorin to stay, but the door closed between them, and in the end, it was just Cyrus and two practical strangers in a strange house, and one of them was…

Cyrus choked back whatever sound tried to escape him, and went to hunt down a bedroom. He hesitated between the two he found, but ended up choosing the one that looked lived in. Moments after he settled Fax’s still form on the bed, the angel was already up beside the demon, curled up as if Fax were simply asleep.

Cyrus swallowed hard. He should have done better. He should have acted faster. Lev had suffered for his hesitation. He backed away, though he didn’t shut the bedroom door. He couldn’t stay, but he couldn’t leave Lev alone, either. As he watched Lev carefully, not trusting the angel to refrain from doing anything stupid, he pulled out his phone and dialed Angela.

“I need a favor.”

–

An hour later, and Fabius opened a portal back to hell for him. Not to the right building, but Cy didn’t care. It’d taken them far too long to get to Fax’s (Lev’s? Cyrus wasn’t sure) house. He’d left after briefly explaining the situation. Leaving Sorin alone after something like this wasn’t smart, and he didn’t like being away when Sorin was this worked up even if it wasn’t right after…

Cyrus took a steadying breath, and reminded himself he had things to do other than worry about what had happened. He had to clean up this mess, and then he could worry afterwards. As if telling himself worrying later was going to be effective. He could always try anyway.

Sorin hadn’t left, much to Curus’ relief. In fact, it looked like he’d not moved other than to retreat to a corner and curl up. He had one hand tangled in his hair, one leg sprawled before him, and his shoulders hunched when Cyrus opened the door. Cyrus let out a small breath, and padded across the room. Sorin leaned into him when he settled beside the demon, and only then did he realize that Sorin was  _crying_.

“Why didn’t he stop me?” Sorin whispered.

“I imagine he couldn’t,” Cyrus eventually said, trying to choose his words carefully. Of all the thing he’d expected Sorin to say, that wasn’t it.

Sorin was silent for a long time. “He’s  _Fax_ , though. Was… was Fax. Fax can do anything. Fax was the best out of all of us. Fax should have been able to stop me.”

“Did you want to be stopped?” Cyrus asked, as gently as he could around the lump in his throat.

“No. Yes. No. I didn’t. But he should have.” Sorin took a shuddery breath. “Why don’t I feel better?”

Telling Sorin it was because he’d killed his own cousin wasn’t going to help, and so Cyrus merely reached up and ran his fingers through Sorin’s red-gold curls, wishing he knew how to comfort him.

“I don’t understand,” Sorin tried again, pushing away with an abruptness that had Cyrus stilling instinctively. He watched warily as Sorin stood. Sorin made it a few paces before whipping around. “I did it. I did what I’ve wanted for  _years_ , and I don’t feel better. I feel  _worse_. I hurt, and that ache is still there, and he’s  _gone_  and it’s my fault, and I  _beat_  him and he’s still here. Why don’t I feel  _better_?”

Cyrus stood carefully. “Sorin,” he said carefully, gently, hollowly. How to explain what should be obvious? He reached for Sorin, but Sorin jerked back.

“Why don’t I feel better?” Sorin demanded, fresh tears spilling over. He shook his head, over and over as he wound his arms around his middle. “I won and it hurts  _worse_. Cyrus, I- I killed my own cousin. I-”

Cyrus grabbed Sorin by the face, holding him still. “Sorin,” he tried. “Sorin, listen to me-”

_“Why don’t I feel better?”_ Sorin cried, voice thin. This time Cyrus tugged him close, holding him tight to his chest as Sorin began to sob. They slowly sank to the ground together, until Cyrus held Sorin in his lap, rubbing Sorin’s back as the demon cried himself out.

He shouldn’t have felt any sort of sympathy, but his heart twisted listening to Sorin weep. Again, guilt swept through him. There had been so many chances to step in, and he hadn’t, and now Sorin was a mess and the angel was a mess, and-

Sorin grabbed at Cyrus’ arm, fingers plucking weakly at his sleeve. “Cy, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry.”

Cyrus couldn’t say it was alright, because it wasn’t, but he did bundle Sorin closer, rubbing his back carefully. With his cheek pressed to the side of Sorin’s head he could feel every tremor that went through the demon, and it killed him. He held Sorin tighter, as if that would help.

“What have I done, Cy? I thought this would fix everything. I’m not angry anymore but I still hurt. I hurt worse. Everything is wrong. I screwed up, and I can’t fix this. I can’t take it back.”

“Rin,” Cyrus whispered sadly. He couldn’t stand this. He couldn’t do it. “Sorin, I-”

And then his phone went off. Why on earth did hell have such good cell reception? That was Angela’s ringtone, which could only mean something was wrong. He let go of Sorin, fumbling for his phone. Why couldn’t he get a damn break today?

He didnt even bother with a greeting. “Ange, what-”

“Look, I don’t know what kind of spell you did, but the angel is hysterical, Fabius is making it worse just by being in the room, and I really don’t know how to handle a sobbing angel who looks like he went through a meat grinder. What happened down there? I thought you said you had a handle on things.”

“Yeah, well,” Cyrus said, glancing down at Sorin, who had quieted down. “I didn’t. I miscalculated. I’ll be down there in two minutes, okay? I have to deal with Sorin.”

“Screw Sorin. He made this mess in the first place. Just get  _over_  here.” She hung up on him, and that was the biggest sign of how stressed she was.

Cyrus sighed, and pressed his face to Sorin’s head. “I have to go. Can I trust you to go home and wait for me there?” Sorin’s nod was small, but it was there. Who knew if he meant it; Cyrus didn’t think he had time to be sure. One didn’t leave Angela waiting when she summoned them. Cyrus pulled them both to their feet. A kiss to Sorin’s forehead later Cyrus was gone.

Sorin’d be okay for now. He had to be.

 


	12. Interlude: Silas, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a brief step back, to look at one of Levant's exes. He shows up again in the future, so I thought it best you learned more about him and why he was so important to Lev's past! This is a two part interlude, as it got so very long!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the wait, I've been updating on tumblr first, but it kept spiraling bigger, and I left y'all hanging so long that I've decided to post the first half in one chapter, and the second half in another, and then I promise you we'll be back to the main storyline!

Zuriel had tried, he really had. He was at a loss of what else to do with the angel. He wanted to do right by Levant, both as Levant’s mentor, sure, but also because he honestly cared about the skittish fledgling. Levant had potential, if he could stop jumping at every little thing, and bursting into tears at every frown in his direction. He had the lineage, and he had the power, and he had the status, if he was willing to take advantage of it. He just needed a helping hand to get to where he needed to be.

That was why he snagged Silas as the angel was walking out of a training room, and pulled him to the side. Silas arched his brow at the forward action, the piercing through it glinting faintly in the hallway light, but let himself get led to an empty hallway. “Can I help you, Zuriel?”

“Hopefully.” Zuriel rocked back on his heels, rubbed his jaw. He wasn't sure if this would really work; Silas was a tall, broad shouldered man, with a stubborn set to his jaw any given time and a dark tattoo crawling along his shoulder and up the back of his neck. Another wrapped around one side of his torso, and with as much time the angel spent training and conveniently shirtless, there was no avoiding it. Levant was skittish enough that Zuriel worried Silas’ unapologetic appearance might give the fledgling a heart attack before any good could be done.

“Sometime today would be nice, Zuri, unless you’re going to continue admiring the view.” Silas' electric eyes crinkled as he grinned.

“You know how I agreed to mentor Raziel’s grandson?” Zuriel asked, ignoring the wink Silas threw his way. “I'm not... getting anywhere with him. It doesn't help that my magic is water based. I can teach him, technically, but I've never had someone so very easily disheartened. I thought, if someone who knows how his power works, or at least close enough to get him to understand.”

Silas blinked. “My father has high hopes for him,” he observed, and his other brow rose. “Raziel is one of the best, and her son was a prodigy.”

“He has potential, but I'm having trouble getting through to him. I hoped, either because of your magic, or being closer to his age, you might be able to connect a bit better.” Zuriel resisted the urge to rub his face tiredly. “I want to see him succeed. For all the fear, I see so much in him, if I can just get him to get past that...”

Silas gave a small hum as he brushed his dark hair from his face. Zuriel knew better to push him as he thought about it. “I mean I can try,” Silas offered as he leaned back against the wall. “I can't promise anything, but I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” Zuriel said fervently. “Thank you. He deserves a chance, and I want to give him every bit of help that I can. It's a lot of pressure they've put on him, and I don't want him to snap before he’s reached where he could be.”

Silas frowned slightly, before giving a shug. “I said I would. Send him my way tomorrow.” And with that be was gone.

God, Zuriel hoped this worked.

* * *

 

Lev had arrived early. He knew this. A full hour early, and yet... he was all but thrumming with anxiety as he shuffled in the corner of the training room. Why Zuriel thought extra training with someone he didn't know was a good idea was beyond Lev but he was desperate enough that he showed up, and he hadn't started hyperventilating yet, so he had some hope, at least.

About fifteen minutes before he was actually _supposed_ to be there, the door opened, and a rather rumpled looking angel strode in, yawning as he rubbed the back of his neck. He paused when he noticed Lev, who had already frozen.

Zuriel had failed to mention that _Silas_ was the angel he’d asked to help Lev.

Silas, as in _Michael's_ son. One of the best in training, though Lev knew he really didn't have much of a choice. Not with _Michael_ as his father.

And, to make matters worse, Silas was built like his father. Tall, broad, and intimidating, though Michael didn't have a tattoo crawling up his neck or a pierced brow. And Michael never let his hair get so shaggy.

Still, Silas was terrifying to watch cross the room, and even more terrifying to stare up at. Electric blue eyes pinned Lev in place, and he wasn't sure he would be able to stop his knees from buckling if Silas kept frowning down at him like that.

“I'm not going to eat you, you know.” Silas’ deep voice was rich with amusement, but Lev jumped anyway. Silas frowned deeper.

Lev had to look away. He’d not said one word to Silas and he already felt like he’d let the angel down. Was there nothing he could do right? To his eternal mortification, tears welled up. No, he couldn't cry in front of Silas, not even five minutes after meeting him. Lev reached desperately for control, hating himself for falling to pieces so easily.

“Hey,” Silas tried, startling Lev. “Chin up, yeah? I swear I'm not as scary as they make it out to be, alright? Zuri said you needed some help in training. What exactly did you need help with?”

Lev flushed, even as he lifted his gaze to Silas’. “Everything,” he admitted. “Its all... none of it comes easy.” Except when he wanted to disappear, but he couldn't very well do that. It wouldn't do him much good.

“That's alright,” Silas assured. “Everyone has something they struggle with. Even me.” If Lev didn't know better he’d think that was concern on Silas’ face. “Is there anything that comes easy?”

Lev almost shook his head, but that wasn't quite true, was it? “Nothing useful,” he mumbled instead.

“Anything can be useful, if you use it correctly.” Silas gave Lev a once over. “So? What do you have?”

Lev hesitated, but backed up. It was second nature to wrap himself in his shadows as he sank into the corner. Silas’ brows furrowed, and another frown tugged at his lips.

“So, hiding.” Silas waved a hand, and his magic pushed Lev’s away. “You're good at hiding.”

Unable to translate Silas’ tone, Lev sucked in a sharp breath and tried not to look away. His mouth trembled anyway. “Yeah,” he said. “It's... easier when people aren't looking for me in the first place.”

“I'm sure... Levant, right?”

Lev nodded. “Lev... Lev is easier.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Silas grinned. “No offense or anything, but Lev does roll off the tongue a little easier.”

Lev had to admit that when he smiled like that he was a lot less intimidating. Still, all he could manage was a small nod.

“I don't have any cute nicknames, unfortunately, so it’ll just have to be Silas for you.” There was that grin again, and a wink that made Lev flush deeply. Silas gave a soft snort, before saying, “Tell me more.about your magic. Zuri said it was something similar to mine, and I can see that, but I want to know your limitations.”

Lev chewed on his lip as he fidgeted. “I can use the shadows around me. I usually pull them closer when I need to get out of a situation. Most people don't notice me, especially if they aren't looking for me.”

Silas considered that. “Alright. Can you create your own? Without drawing on the shadows around you?”

“I don't... I've never tried.” Lev tucked his chin against his chest. “There's always been shadows to pull from, even in heaven.”

Silas waited, and when Lev didn't move, he prompted gently, “Try now, then.”

Lev blinked, but Silas seemed to mean it, so he obeyed. Or he tried to. It took several tries, and the wisps of darkness were so much weaker than his usual magic, but it was there. Silas’ grin was blinding when he risked a glance in the angel’s direction.

“That's a start, Lev. That's a start. I can work with that. Lets see what else you can do, yeah?”

* * *

 

Silas slowed when he realized Lev was trailing behind again. He bit back a sigh, knowing full well getting annoyed wasn't going to help. He’d picked up quickly over the last two days that Lev responded quickly and well to positive reinforcement, and shut down entirely at the merest hint of disapproval, even if it was only in his own mind. Instead, Silas gave a little grin. “Come on. You don't have to look like I'm taking you to your own funeral.”

“I'm not... I don't train around the others anymore. They don't take kindly to my presence.”  Lev was chewing so hard on his lip Silas thought he might bite through it.

“Hey. I'll be there, and you're just working with me. I don't want people making weird assumptions if I keep training you one on one in private, alright?” Silas pulled to a stop. “I promise, they’ll probably be staring at me more than you, if they even bother anymore.”

Lev started to say something, before shaking his head. Silas wished he didn't have that hunted look to him. The pinched way he pursed his lips and his hunched shoulders already had frustration coiling in Silas’ stomach. Not at Lev. Never at Lev, who Silas had figured on the first day was practically a welcome mat for anyone willing to step on him. The frustration was at everyone else who _was_ willing to walk all over him. Not that Lev would have been able to decipher the difference between anger for him and anger at him, and so Silas was, clumsily, attempting to keep his temper on a leash.

“Chin up,” Silas said, instead. “I promise. It won't be so bad. You need it, yeah? We get through this and I'll sneak you down to earth, if you want. Sound like a deal?”

Lev hesitated long enough that Silas thought he was going to balk again. Lev gave a nod, though. “Okay.”

“Yeah? Some time away might be good for you, anyway. I know a couple of quiet places.” Silas nudged him. “C’mon.”

To his relief Lev followed far more willingly this time. Silas added trips outside to the tentative list of things he could bribe Lev with, and wondered how the hell Zuriel hadn't discovered this yet. Surely over the years of teaching Lev he’d figured something about how the angel worked, other than pressure meant waterworks.

Finding out just how long Zuriel had been teaching Lev, or trying to, anyway, had been a surprise. He’d thought Lev far younger than he was. Silas blamed the fact that Lev didn't act anything like the angels their age. Most would forgive such fear in a fledgling, but not in an angel full grown, even if Lev was young still.

He wasn't so lost in thought that he could miss the way Lev tensed up right before they got to the training rooms. Silas didn't waste breath telling him it’d be fine, and instead led the way inside. Sure there were a few glances thrown their way, but Silas ignored them with practiced ease. He pulled Lev as far from others as possible. It took effort not to try and ruffle Lev’s hair. Comforting Lev was always a challenge; it was so easy to treat him like a child, and Silas really didn't want to step over the line between comfort and being condescending.

They had a few minutes of peace before the inevitable drifting started. Silas might have been happy to ignore it if it was angels interested in watching him in hopes of picking up some tricks themselves. That was never the case, though, and Silas could feel tension building between his shoulder blades as he did his best to tune everyone but Lev out while he corrected Lev’s stance over and over. Lev was shaking, and wouldn't quite meet his gaze; it felt like a step back from whatever progress he’d made.

So maybe this hadn't been the best idea. He could tell that Lev was stressed, and it didn't help that Silas could hear every word. He heard every mutter about Lev, and every supposition about what would possess Silas of all people to help Lev, and the sight of tears welling up in those golden eyes made Silas’s rage flicker and grow.

“You have to wonder what Daddy’s boy did to get stuck training the runt.”

Well. Silas had tried, anyway. His already fraying temper snapped, and in the next heartbeat he had whipped around and slammed his fist into the angel’s face. He stepped back, shaking out his hand and trying to resist the impulse to take another swing and send the angel on his ass.

“Your comments aren't needed,” he snarled. “They aren't wanted. If you don't see the point in helping those who need it, maybe you shouldn't be in training to be a Guardian, Zakiah. Believe me, I can and will be speaking to your superiors.”

He turned away then; he could control himself, he could, though he feared it might be too late when he registered Lev’s wide eyes and tense posture. How much of his rage was shining through right now? Enough to scare Lev, that was for sure.

He didn't get a chance to try and fix things. Behind him, Zakiah was saying, “Of course you’d pull rank. It’s all you know how to do-”

Silas’ fist seemed effective in shutting him up a second time. Zakiah managed to dodge enough to not get laid out, but Silas still landed the blow. The ache in his hand was a welcome counterpoint to his anger.

“I think it's pretty damn clear I know how to do more than that,” Silas said. He should have backed off, he should have-

Zakiah wasn't quite his height, but he was still one of the best fighters in training. Silas knew that, and had gotten into plenty of fights with him before today, though it was occasionally a toss up who came out on top. Silas’ anger rarely did him any favors, and Zakiah knew this.

Zakiah even managed to clock Silas pretty solidly in the face. Angry or not, though, Silas was still a step above Zakiah, and he was willing to play dirty to get this over with. With a few moves he ended up behind Zakiah, and wasted no time driving his elbow between Zakiah’s shoulder blades.

Angel wings are sensitive, and everyone knew this. There was a reason that most trainees didn't fight with them in the open. It wasn't an honorable move to force an opponent's shift, but Silas told himself that it didn't matter. Zakiah had started this bull, and Silas was just finishing it.

Efficiently.

His strike had sent Zakiah’s silvery wings flying open, and it was simple to kick Zakiah’s knees from under him and grab the nearest wing tight enough that Zakiah squawked a protest. The room had gone silent by now. Silas yanked on the wing, just enough to get his point across.

“I can pull rank, Zakiah. I can also pull this right off.” He gave the wing another tug, and something inside him purred darkly at the whispered protest Zakiah gave. “So _back off_.” It wasn't like he couldn't get away with it. His father could handwave away nearly any stunt Silas pulled, and they all knew it.

He shoved Zakiah the rest of the way to the ground abruptly, and stepped back to sweep the room with a cold glance. Lev was gone, and that brought the rest of his rage to a shuddering halt. Another sweep of the room told him Lev hadn't retreated to a corner.

“Which way did he go?” He demanded of the nearest angel. They pointed, and he walked out without another word. Guilt and anger warred in his chest as he looked for Lev. He shouldn't have lost his temper, but Zakiah shouldn't have been such a monumental ass, either. Silas had never once given Raziel’s grandson a second thought before meeting Lev, but now that he knew Lev he couldn't stand to think about how the other angels acted around him. So what if he was afraid? Everyone had a weakness. It was something to work on, that was all.

It took him a solid fifteen minutes to find Lev, who turned out to be curled up in the corner of the private training rooms Silas had first met him in. Silas paused in the doorway, taking in the hunched shoulders and the knees pulled up to his chest. There was no missing the flicker of anxiety on Lev’s face as Silas crossed the room, and the guilt rose again, finally smothering the last of Silas’ anger.

Silas carefully settled down beside Lev, and pulled his knees up loosely. They sat in silence for several minutes before Lev finally whispered, “I'm sorry.”

Silas’ chin jerked down. “For what?”

“Causing trouble. You didn't have to-”

Silas shook his head, and then hated how abruptly Lev shut up from just that. “No. I should be apologizing. I knew how they are around me, and that they aren't the nicest to you either.” He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “We’ll just stick to one on one stuff. Easier on both of us, unless you want to try again.”

Silence.

But when he opened his eyes to glance down at Lev, Lev gave a tiny nod. That would have to be enough for now. He gave a sigh, and almost closed his eyes when Lev reached up. Silas went still. Even after Lev paused with his fingers centimeters from Silas’ face, he waited. Lev pressed the very tips of his fingers underneath Silas’ eye, where a spectacular bruise was most likely forming.

“It’ll heal within the next hour,” Silas said quietly. “I wasn't being careful.”

Lev’s mouth tipped down. He didn't say a word, but he did slide his hand so that it cupped the side of Silas’ face. Lev’s healing was little more than a cool caress of magic, soothing the leftover ache, and then Lev was withdrawing, settling back beside him. Silas stared at him. That was possibly the boldest thing Lev had done since Silas had met him, and he wasn't sure how to react without making Lev nervous again.

Eventually he settled for a soft, “Thank you.”

Lev didn't look up, but he nodded again. That would have to be enough for now. Silas shifted so he was more comfortable, and closed his eyes again. Training could wait another day.

* * *

 

Even Lev could see Silas was pleased with whatever progress Lev had managed in the past few days. Lev wasn't particularly proud of what tiny steps he’d made, but it was enough for Silas, who praised anything and everything. Lev might have dismissed the praise as fluff if it hadn't left him glowing anyway to see that grin.

Who was he kidding? Almost any kind of interaction with Silas left him glowing. A warm, fluttery feeling often filled his chest, and he had to wonder if this was a new kind of anxiety. It was distracting, and that made him more likely to fumble.

Silas rapped the staff in Lev’s hands with his own, startling Lev enough that Lev dropped his.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lev mumbled, ducking down to snatch it up. “I wasn't...” He looked up, only to find Silas had crouched to grab it as well, and was now almost nose to nose with Lev. “...paying attention,” he finished weakly. He stared for a moment, before ducking his chin and standing.

“I can tell,” Silas said, standing as well. He gave a little grin, and Lev’s heart squeezed. “Come on, then. Try again.”

So Lev did, and managed to not stare at Silas’ bright eyes, and not pause when Silas praised him for holding his own, and even managed to stay focused long enough to finally ask Silas why he’d settled on working with a staff today.

“I'm not really a teacher. All I know of what I've been taught, and how I was taught, and what I've learned about you, so far,” Silas admitted. “When I was first learning, my father had Barachiel teach me. He wanted me to... the son of Michael should be the best of the best, right? I was young, to be learning, and I admit that the extra years of training probably helped me get where I am.”

Lev gave a small shake of his head as he backed away a few steps. Silas let him, and waited. “I think you’d still be one of the best,” Lev said carefully. “You enjoy it.”

Silas’ brows rose. Anxiety twisted Lev’s stomach in knots, but Silas just gave a free laugh and poked at Lev with his staff. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Levant.” He gave another playful jab and this time Lev batted it away. The pleased look on Silas’ face sent the flutters in Lev’s chest into overdrive, and he became half convinced that they might come flying out of his mouth if he opened it. Silas didn't seem to notice, because he went on to say, “Barry was a good teacher, and I learned a lot from him. He did always insist on the staff to begin with. I think its because it was his favorite, but I could be wrong. Whatever it was, it worked with me.”

“Barachiel is a good teacher,” Lev agreed quietly. The fact that Silas could refer to the angel so casually, so _fondly_ was beyond Lev. He debated for a moment, before admitting, “He taught me how to fly.”

Silas cocked his head thoughtfully. “Oh? Was Raziel too busy?”

“No. Just not... patient. I didn't like heights. I still don't, but Barachiel... he helped. And I can fly, now anyway, so...”

Silas shook his head slowly. “Why am I not surprised you're afraid of heights?” A flush spread across Lev’s cheeks, and his hands tightened on the staff. Before he could look away Silas’ eyes went wide. “No, no, it's fine. I think it's impressive.”

“What?” Of all the things to call Lev’s dislike of heights, impressive wasn't one of them. Flying was part of being an angel, plain and simple. To not be comfortable with that was to not be comfortable as an angel, period.

Silas gave a shrug. “The others didn't have to work as hard as you. You were afraid, but you can fly, cant you? They didn't have to struggle to get to where they are. You did. So even if you still struggle... I'm proud of that you try anyway.”

Lev started to duck his chin, only to notice Silas sweeping his staff at Lev. It was a slow swing, easy to catch; Silas was going gentle on him. Lev knocked it away, and the other end of Silas’ staff too.

“There we go,” Silas said, and that grin was back, bright enough Lev flushed all over again. “I know you like being on the defensive, but why don't you try going on the offensive?”

Right, because that would go over well. Even if Silas was going easy on him. Still, Lev couldn't really say no to that encouraging grin, and it made Silas happy, even if Silas could and did deflect every attempt Lev made. Silas picked up the pace, occasionally taking the offensive just so that Lev had to think. They went back and forth, Lev finally finding the rhythm of it all, and reveling in how it worked, at least until Silas managed to twist Lev’s staff from his hands. Lev ducked automatically, and skittered to the side.

It almost worked, but Silas whipped around the other way. His staff blocked Lev from going anywhere, and in the next heartbeat he had Lev pressed against the wall, staff braced across Lev’s shoulders to hold him there. Lev stared up at him, startled to find that Silas was very close indeed, electric eyes bright and a half smile that seemed far more genuine than some of the grins he’d given before.

“That was good,” Silas said breathlessly. “That was very good, Lev, and I-”

Lev hadn't meant to close the distance between them, and it didn't quite register until he’d already pressed their lips together. Silas stilled. They stared for one heartbeat, two, and then Lev twisted his head to break the kiss, and pushed Silas back. Silas let him, thankfully.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I-” Lev’s cheeks heated, and he could already feel the tears welling up.

“Lev, no.” Silas let go of his weapon to catch Lev before he could bolt. “Hey. No, don't... please calm down. ‘S okay.”

Lev refused to look at him, could barely focus on anything over the beating of his own heart. Why on earth had he thought that would be okay? Well, to be fair, he hadn't. He hadn't planned on it.

“Levant,” Silas said, voice gentle. He caught Lev’s chin, but didn't tug. Lev looked anyway, unable to help it. “It's okay.”

Lev’s mouth still trembled, and he didn't know what to do. Kissing had always been a bit of a trial, something he did because the girl he was with had wanted it, but even as awkward as it had been, kissing Silas had felt right. Terrifying, sure, but he only regretted that he hadn't thought through the consequences first.

“Lev,” Silas tried again, and this time there was faint exasperation in his tone. Lev didn't get a chance to panic more, because Silas tipped his chin up and pressed their lips together. It was chaste, it was soft, it was brief and it still left Lev breathless. Staring up at Silas seemed the only thing he was capable of doing, at least until Silas swiped at his cheeks. “Am I that bad at kissing?”

Lev shook his head, and reached up to scrub at his cheeks himself. “N-no. I'm just... I'm stupid, and I cry too much and I've never... I didn't mean to, I didn't think that through, and-”

“Slow down, yeah?” Silas grabbed Lev’s hands. He slowly lowered them to Lev’s sides. “It's okay. The kiss. If you were okay with it, then I was more than okay with it. I didn't think you were into guys.”

Lev choked on a laugh. “Neither did I.” He reached up again, only to have Silas stop him from trying to rub at his face again. Probably for the best; all Lev was doing at this point was making his face redder. “That wasn't my first kiss, but that was...”

“Satisfactory?” Silas gave a crooked grin.

Another laugh, this one a bit more genuine. “I didn't know what the hype was about before.”

“Kissing’s pretty nice,” Silas agreed. He paused, taking the chance to wipe at the last of Lev’s tears, far more gently than Lev would have. “We can do it again, if you want.”

Lev’s fingers wrapped around his wrist lightly. His heart pounded, rabbit-like. Anxiety told him one thing, but Silas’ expression was steady, serious, or as serious as Silas could be, and so Lev said, softly, “Please.”

* * *

 

Lev jerked awake to find Silas bent over him. The big angel was shaking him, and the sudden appearance was enough that he yelped, flailing. Large hands caught his before he could smack Silas in the face. Lev thought, just for a moment, his heart might beat its way out of his chest.

“Hey, hey, calm down. It's just me.” Silas let him flop back down on his bed, but folded his arms over his broad chest. “Come on. I have something to show you.”

“Right now?” Lev threw an arm over his eyes. His heartbeat slowed minimally. At least enough to add, “I was asleep. I'm tired.”

“Yes. Right now. Up, up.” He poked Lev in the side, and then poked again when Lev squirmed. “Jeez, Lev, are you ticklish?”

“Nooooooo,” Lev swatted at his hand. “I'm up. I'm up! What is it?”

“I promised you a trip to earth, didn't I?”

“Yeah, but at this hour?” Lev sat up, only to have a pair of jeans shoved in his arms. “You're pushy.”

“You like it. And I like you when you're tired. You're snippier than usual. Up. C’mon.”

“Could you...” Lev trailed off.

Silas blinked, but turned on his heel to face the other way. “I have something to do tomorrow, so we can't stay long, but we have a few hours. If you’ll hurry the hell up, anyway.”

Lev wiggled into the jeans. “I'm hurrying. I'm hurrying! Why are you so bossy? There.” He reached for his shirt, but Silas grabbed his hand and dragged him out the door before he could.

“We’ve established that you like the bossiness, now come on.” Silas stopped only when they were at one of the entrances, and that was only so he could murmur the words that would open the door in the archaic language of the angels. Then he was dragging Lev forward gain, heedless of Lev’s shorter legs and the fact that Lev had woken not ten minutes before. Lev didn't mind overmuch; he trusted Silas to keep him from falling on his face if he did trip.

The door dropped them in a dark church. It was small, but the sanctuary look well care for. With a flick of his fingers, Silas pulled the shadows closer to them as he continued to lead Levant forward. “It's a bit of a flight,” he warned as they stepped outside. Above them, stars twinkled. The night around them was quiet, and Lev found the darkness soothing, as he always did.

The snap of Silas’ wings distracted him from enjoying the quiet. Lev glanced over, watching Silas move further away from the little church, which seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, if Lev’s secondary glance told him anything. He snapped his attention back to Silas, blinking.

“Well? Come on.” Silas swung a wing at him, the white feathers close enough that Lev felt them briefly brush his face. “We’ve got places to go, Lev.”

Lev shifted, his wings a familiar weight on his back and a sense of _rightness_ in his bones that he always forgot he missed until he was stretching his wings. Silas grinned at him, jerking his head in an impatient order to follow.

Silas set a quick pace, and Lev, never a strong flyer, was hard pressed to keep up. It was worth it, though. Silas landed at the foot of a waterfall, and turned to ensure Lev didn't crash face first into the ground. Lev appreciated it; landing had never been a graceful act for him, though only because he over thought it, as he did with everything. Once wings were safely tucked away, so they wouldn't get soaked as Silas dragged Lev up towards the waterfall, and then behind it, because of course there was a cave, of course. And if Silas plopped him down on the floor without warning about the damp stone being  _cold,_ well at least Silas flopped down right beside him.

“As much as I like you staring at me, I kind of brought you here to look at that.” Silas nudged Lev until he looked out. He could see the moon light filtering through the water. It was still dark around them, the shadows muffling and muting the light of the moon. “There we go,” Silas murmured.

Lev had to admit it was nice here. The constant rush of water was a soothing background noise, and he was in his element, quite literally, tucked away in the shadows like this. Something between his shoulders eased, a tension there he hadn't noticed before.

“There we go,” Silas repeated, startling him. He glanced over, blinking, only to have Silas lean close and kiss him. Soft, chaste, gone again, nothing like the last time they’d kissed. When Silas pulled away he was grinning. “That look you get when I kiss you is the biggest ego boost, Lev. You don't even have to say anything.” He shook his head. “Every time.”

“Like you need any more of an ego,” Lev muttered, but let himself get tugged closer. “You have more than enough self esteem for both of us.”

“Well, if I could figure out how to share I'd certainly share with you. You could use it.” Silas fell silent for a moment, and Lev tried not to feel giddy about the arm around his shoulders.

Silas shifted his weight, twisting his hand to cup a patch of darkness steadily pooling in his palm. As Lev stared, the darkness solidified into the form of a delicate flower. And there it was, the significant difference between Lev’s shadows and Silas’ darkness. Lev reached out to touch a single silky petal. He could never manage to make something so solid and real out of his magic. He could never figure out how Silas managed to give darkness physical form. It was surprisingly warm, almost as if it had life itself.

“There we go,” Silas said, for the third time that night. Lev shot him a confused look. “You never look at happy. If I knew this was all it took...”

Lev flushed then, ducking his head. Silas tugged his face up anyway, his smile soft. That smile did things to Lev, and made the flutters in his chest go wild.

Silas tugged at the bottom of the flower until a stem formed, and then tucked it behind Lev’s ear. Lev managed a smile, but nothing came out when he tried to speak. It didn't seem to bother Silas, who just leaned down to steal another kiss.

“We’ve got a little more time. Do you want to stay or go explore a bit?”

Lev shrugged. “I think I'd like to stay here with you.”

Silas laughed. “Alright, Lev. We'll have an adventure next time, then.”

Next time. Lev smiled. They had a next time, then. And maybe a time after that, if Lev was lucky. 

* * *

 

The chair tipped over with a clatter, loud enough that Lev flinched, backing deeper into his corner of his room. His shadows pulled tight over him. The ghost of their touch should have been a comfort, but all Lev felt was an acidic touch of fear as Silas paced. He’d forgotten, somehow, that Silas was a warrior, that power and strength lived and breathed in this angel. It was impossible to forget now, as Silas ran a hand through his hair, and kicked the chair again for good measure.

“I don't get how the hell it's any of his business anyway.” Silas flexed his hand, and then shook it out. He’d punched the doorway hard enough to split the skin on his knuckles, but that had already healed over.

Lev couldn't stop picturing it, though, over and over. It was so easy to forget how Silas was known for his temper, and Lev was pretty sure he was seeing the end of this tantrum, not the beginning. That didn't do anything to ease the fear in his throat.

“The next time I see Zakiah I'm going to personally rearrange his face.” Rage made those electric eyes spark, and darkness curled around his fists. He looked the part of an avenging angel just then. “My fucking father? I can't believe that asshole-”

Silas was finally, finally getting around to semi-coherent sentences, and from what Lev had gathered so far, Zakiah had ensured that Michael had discovered that Silas was helping Lev. Michael knowing that wasn't a problem. The problem was Zakiah had ensured that Michael was convinced it was more than just training that they were doing.

It was fair, sort of, because they _did_ do more than just train, but nothing at the level that Zakiah had convinced Michael they were doing. Sure, Silas had taken Lev outside, once, and sure sometimes they kissed, and _sure_ , maybe a little bit of fooling around-

Lev flushed despite Silas pacing the room like a caged tiger as a very clear memory of Silas looking up at him flashed before his eyes. So they'd definitely fooled around, sure. But Zakiah had implied a lot more than that, and Lev couldn't wrap his head around the idea that Michael would actually believe there was anything more than kisses and getting a little handsy between him and Silas. Silas got around, that was all, and as soon as Lev didn't need him. Silas was free to move on. Right?

“I can't believe he thinks we’re fucking. I did my damndest to make it look like we weren't.”

Lev flinched and shrank further into his corner. That little movement finally caught Silas’ attention, though, and some of the anger dimmed in his expression.

“Lev, no- that's not...” Silas took a step forward, guilt crumpling his expression. Lev had nowhere else to go, nowhere else to flinch away, but Silas pulled to a stop anyway. “Lev. It's not like that. I just- damn it.” He jerked his hand through his hair, his magic following the motion like ripples in water. “Damn it all.”

“It's okay,” Lev offered in a small voice.

“No, it's not!” Silas backed up a step, and visibly struggled to lower his voice. “No. It's not. I didn't want... I didn't want his attention on you. My father is intense and I know you, Lev. I don't care that you spook easy, but my father would. And he’d squish you like a bug without even meaning to.”

“Silas, it's okay. You don't have to pretend-”

“Lev!” Silas winced with Lev this time. “Lev. I'm not spewing bullshit to make you feel better. Have I ever lied to you?” When Lev shook his head, Silas flexed his hand again. “This is why I wanted to train in public. I didn't want them insinuating that we were screwing around. You deserve better than that, Lev.”

Lev didn't know about deserving anything, but that didn't stop him from blurting, “Is that why you... why we haven't-”

He stumbled over his words and that only made him feel more foolish, but Silas gave a small sound that was probably supposed to be a laugh. “Part of it, Lev. I also wasn't going to push you for more than you were willing to give.” He took a few steps forward, until he was less than a foot away. Lev could see frustration in his expression, in the tension that still ran through him. “I know my reputation, and I know you, and I wasn't going to ask anything from you until I was sure you wanted it. Even if that meant never.”

Lev was at a loss of what to say. He started to duck his chin, but at the last moment kept eye contact. “I don't mind. I... any of it. I don't care what they know. They would have said things anyway. Angels gossip. And...” Well. He wasn't going to say the rest out loud. Not right now. It felt a little inappropriate. Instead he finished, “With a little warning beforehand, I can handle meeting your father.”

Silas snorted. “Lev, I don't mean any offense, but _I_ can barely handle dealing with my father.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Nine times out of ten, our discussions end like this. It's like he finds it a game to push my buttons.”

“I would have had to eventually. Raziel has already told me if I get through training they expect big things from me. Angels look up to her, and someone has to fill my father’s shoes.” Lev shrugged. “I'm telling you, it's okay.” Meeting Michael was probably one of the most terrifying things in his future, but it was something he’d known was coming. Just... not because of this.

“Lev...” Silas sighed. At least his hands had relaxed. Hell, he looked for a moment like he was going to reach for Lev, but in the end he let his hand drop. “It's not just my father. Like you said. Angels gossip. I'm not even going to try and pretend I can keep them from bugging you every minute of the day.”

“You talk about this like you want us to actually be a thing, Silas.”

Silas snorted. “You say that like it's hard to believe.”

“Because it is!”

Silas’ brows furrowed. “Lev, I like you. You’re a bit skittish, but you're a good angel, and you try your best, which is more than I can say about some angels three times your age. Why wouldn't I want to at least try?”

The answer _‘because I'm me,’_ came to mind, but Lev wasn't stupid enough to think that it would be an acceptable answer for Silas. “I don't know what to say,” Lev admitted.

“You don't have to say anything,” Silas promised. “I'm not asking for anything. I know the pressure of anyone dating me longer than a one night stand, and I'm not going to ask that of anyone, least of all you.”

Lev gave himself a full minute to think about it. Silas had already gone back to the angel he knew, if a bit tired and stressed still. Reaching out to grab Silas’ hand was an impulsive decision, but asking, “And if I wanted to? Date you, whatever that entails?” was something he didn't do lightly.

The startled hope on Silas’ face was a surprise. He couldn't actually want that, could he? But Silas was right, Lev had never known him to be a liar, and he wouldn't mock Lev, Lev knew that, which meant that in all likelihood, Silas meant it.

“Then we’d figure it out,” Silas promised, squeezing his hand.

Lev’s heart raced, but he was used to that. Anxiety wasn't unfamiliar to him, not after all these years. Nervousness aside, it took a single heartbeat, and that's one of Lev’s too-quick heartbeats, mind you, to tug Silas close and go on his toes so he could kiss Silas. Silas didn't hesitate to kiss back, never had, and if his returning kiss was a bit harsh, Lev didn't mind too much.

When Lev pulled away and settled flat on his feet again, Silas gave a small nod. “Yeah, alright,” he said weakly.

And that was that.


	13. Interlude: Silas, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second and final part of this interlude! Silas and Lev start recognizing all the pitfalls of having a relationship when Silas is the son of an archangel with high standards and Lev is... well, he's Lev, no matter who his parents and grandparents were. It was only a matter of time, and they both know it.  
> Or, the chapter of "For now, anyway"s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, just to give you a heads up! There's some death in this chapter, and abuse, both physical and verbal.

Lev pressed his nose into Silas’ shoulder, and was rewarded with Silas’ arm settling over his waist. They had settled easily into this, and it felt easy, to train, and to laugh, and to let Silas tease him, and to let Silas show him more and more of earth,  and to let Silas kiss him stupid. Lev’s favorite times were times like this. Late at night, drowsy, and even Silas had shut up as he tucked Lev close. His hand occasionally slid under Lev’s shirt, but there was nothing demanding or wanting in the motion. It was casual and absent, a brush of fingers along his side, occasionally accompanied by a kiss pressed to the top of his head.

Lev hadn't realized just how touch starved he’d been until Silas was constantly bumping into him, pulling him into hugs, grabbing his hand to lead him somewhere. It got to the point that Lev was startled when there wasn't a hand on his shoulder, or when Silas didn't brush his knuckles absently against his cheek. If Silas noticed how much Lev craved the little things, he didn't comment.

Lev ducked his head, settling closer. A huff from above told him Silas was amused, and then his thumb was brushing across Lev’s hip.

“You sure I can't convince you to get a tattoo? Not even a small one?”

Lev groaned. “No, Silas.”

Silas nuzzled the top of his head. “Not even if I said please?” His fingers dug into Lev’s side, just enough that Lev squirmed, snorting out a laugh. “Please? It could be small.”

“No,” Lev said as firmly as he could while still trying to wiggle away from Silas’ cruel touches. “my answer is no, and- Silas! Stop tickling me.”

“Fine, fi- oof, damn Lev, watch where you jab your elbow.”

They settled, breaths evening out as Silas studiously kept his hands still. Not to himself, no, but Lev hadn't wanted him to let go, anyway. After a moment, Lev tilted his head to press a kiss to Silas’ cheek.

“Sorry. About the elbow.”

“Don't apologize. I deserved it.” Silas brushed his fingers down Lev’s side, and smiled when Lev relaxed into him. “What about piercing your ear?”

“No! That’ll hurt too!”

Silas grumbled, though he refrained from tickling this time. “Only for a little bit. It isn't a forever pain, Lev.”

“No,” Lev said, and even he could hear the petulance in his tone. “I'm not going to willingly do something that’ll be painful just for the aesthetic, Silas.” He buried his face in Silas’ shoulder so that his, “So There,” was rather muffled.

Silas shifted to run his fingers over Lev’s hair. “Party pooper.”

“What are you, twelve?” Lev shifted again, settling more comfortably, and pressed his hand over Silas’ heartbeat. “You need better arguments.”

“Why, so I can win next time?” Silas laughed at Lev’s jab to his side.

“No. Because you aren't winning.”

Silas stuck his tongue out, his piercing catching the light briefly before he said, “Okay, fine, nothing painful. What about growing your hair out?”

“What?” Lev blinked up at Silas.

“You don't have to, but I figured it’d look cute, if you grew it out. Let it get a little messy, you know?” Silas gauged Lev’s expression, and then shook his head. “You know I'm just teasing you, right? You don't have to change for me.”

“I know. The hair I can do. And if you’ll keep it tame I'll even let you add to my wardrobe.” At the wicked grin Silas sent his way, Lev was quick to add, “Tame, Silas. I said tame.”

“Mmhmm. Sure,” Silas said happily, ducking down to kiss him. “Tame. Can do.”

Lev doubted that, but he couldn't bring himself to care as Silas pressed another kiss, this time to his forehead. It made Silas happy, and that was enough for him.

* * *

 

Heaven’s cities were large. They couldn't be described as sprawling, because the cities were very carefully designed, all lines and corners, _ efficient.  _ And it worked. Organization kept things in order, and everything was carefully placed to be the most useful. 

Even the bars. 

There weren't many. Not because angels didn't drink, but because most of them were discreet and did so at home. The youngest generations did enjoy gathering more than the older generations. Lev hadn't really explored these parts of the city, and Silas knew it. And he didn't mind, not really, but all the nights cooped up with Lev was starting to make him restless. Lev had called him out on it. The little angel noticed more than most gave him credit for.

He knew Lev didn't like being out, not really, but Lev had insisted, and so they were wandering down the street, Silas’ arm around Lev’s shoulders to keep him close. It hadn't escaped his notice that Lev calmed much quicker when Silas was holding onto him. Not that Silas planned on anything being stressful, but it was Lev. Everything was stressful for him. 

He also didn't expect Lev to drink. They’d learned their lesson the first time Silas talked Lev into trying alcohol. The poor thing had spent the night curled up in the bathroom, clutching the toilet, and according to him, the taste had never gotten better anyway. Still, Lev wanted to be with him, and maybe being around other people would be good for him.

One of Lev’s biggest problems had always been his nervousness. Whether about himself, or other people, he was constantly stressed. Working with his worries over training had helped, and Silas was able to convince himself that this would work the same. 

And, to be fair, for the first couple of hours, other than an unfortunate incident where Lev’s nervous hand waving nearly sent his glass to the ground, it was pleasant. Silas had caught it, though he hadn't been able to save the soda inside. Lev had spent another ten minutes apologizing, much to Silas’ concern. 

Silas liked being surrounded by people as much as Lev preferred their quiet nights alone. That Lev would put up with the constant hum of voices around them so that Silas could bask in it meant a lot to him. He didn't mind that Lev ended up keeping a death grip on his hand. Kissing Lev seemed to help, and the way he went pink when Silas pulled away didn't hurt either. He looked so damned pleased by the kiss that Silas couldn't help pressing another to Lev’s forehead before reaching for his glass.

The relative peace couldn't last forever. It wasn't Lev’s fault, though Silas knew Lev did blame himself. Just because Silas had gotten up to get Lev a glass of water didn't mean it was Lev’s fault. That didn't stop him from apologizing to the angel Silas ran into, and then to Silas, and then to the angel behind the man Silas had run into, because she looked more than a little irritated at the pileup. 

Silas ignored them both, instead focusing on Lev as if he didn't have someone’s drink down his back. “‘S okay, Lev, that was on me,” he promised. It was like watching a trainwreck he couldn't stop. By this point he could recognize the signs of Lev spiraling, and he realized he probably should have called it quits a while ago. Silently cursing himself for not paying attention, he linked fingers with Lev to pull him to his feet.

It was a muttered comment, barely audible as the two angels shouldered past, that had Silas tensing. He turned around, a sharp, “Excuse me?” coming from him before he could stop himself. 

“I said, you can't expect daddy’s boy to have manners. He gets away with everything else.”

Lev’s hand wrapped around his arm, tugging pleadingly just as the pair turned back to face him. Silas tried to let Lev distract him, but it was hard when people threw his father in his face again and again. Still, Lev’s whispered please was enough for him to let out a slow breath and turn away again. 

“That's right, go back to your little bitch.” 

Silas pulled to a stop again, jaw clenching. He could see Lev shaking his head, could see the purright fear in his golden eyes, and yet Silas wanted nothing more than to turn back around and-

"I'm not surprised, really. Levant would spread his legs for anyone who looks at him twice, though why they would is beyond me. What does surprise me is that you let yourself be so whipped by such a coward. You'd think the great son of Michael'd have more pride than that."

At that point, Silas’ fist hit the guy in the face. It took less than a minute to drag in at least three other angels, and that meant some of them had been waiting for this. Silas didn't know what made him angrier: that they wanted to fight so badly that they were willing to drag Lev and his reputation into this, or that they had been too cowardly to just out-and-out pick one themselves.

Fighting was where Silas excelled at, and he was certainly in his element, even when outnumbered. And sure, he got hit more than once, and at some point his head got smacked on the edge of a table, but he was the one that walked away from the fight relatively unscathed, so really, it wasn't all that bad.

He tossed a few coins on the bar, and when he glanced around in hopes of finding Lev, the rest of the angels in the bar refused to meet his gaze. He didn't even say anything. Anger still raged in his veins, even at the angels who hadn't done anything. Of course they hadn't done anything. They'd just stood there and watched, instead. And now they stepped back, parting for him as he stalked out, too ashamed to do anything else.

Sometimes, Silas hated angels.

He had managed not to limp as he left the bar, but the moment he was able to he spread his wings and slid into the little traffic there was above. He didn't see Lev, but he had no idea when Lev had managed to slip away, and so Silas went home, flying high and fast mostly to get the rest of that anger togo before he found Lev and freaked him out more with the unending rage. He did that too often already as it was. He never meant to, but he couldn't help it any more than Lev could help flinching back when he snapped.

His instinct was right; Lev was at home, though it looked like he only just got there. Silas tucked his wings away, if only because he’d noticed by now that the added size they provided only added to Lev’s anxiety when Silas was already keyed up. He moved slowly, careful to make noise so he didn't startle Lev, who was curled up on his bed, arms wrapped around himself. The smaller angel’s blank stare was trained on the pillow, his lips pressed into a thin line, and when Silas got close enough, he realized Lev was shaking.

“Hey,” Silas said as he knelt beside the bed. “I'm sorry. It wasn't supposed to-”

Lev looked up, and Silas’s heart slammed to a stop. With angel healing it’d be gone within the hour unless one of them sped it up, but that didn't change the fact that there was a deep bruise already spreading across Lev’s jawbone. 

“Who?” He asked, reaching up to press against the bruising with gentle fingers.

“Doesn't matter.” Lev trembled.  _ Trembled _ . Silas thought he might just get up and go find out himself, but Lev grabbed his wrist. “Silas. It's okay. Really.”

Silas didn't answer, but only because his attention had been snagged by the finger shaped bruises on Lev’s upper arm, and  _ now  _ he was definitely seeing red. Only Lev’s hand wrapped tightly around his wrist still stopped him from storming out.

“Silas, please. It's okay. It was an accident, and they... they stopped when they realized it was me. Please don't go. There's been enough violence tonight.”

Silas gritted his teeth, and tried to calm down. Fuck, but he was angry. “What do you want me to do, then?”

“Stay with me?” Lev pressed his lips together, but the rest of the request was written on his face. Silas wavered, but in the end he settled on the bed and tugged Lev into his lap. Lev went limp against him almost immediately, his face buried in Silas’ neck. It did help, Silas had to admit, holding Lev close and rubbing his back in an effort to get him to stop shaking. 

They didn't speak again for along time, but neither of them really felt like they needed to. This would be enough.

For now anyway.

* * *

 

Barachiel wasn’t in his office, and so Silas started the trek down the block. The Guardians had their own training facilities, and Barry spent just as much time in the training rooms, either on his own or with people who asked, as he did working on paperwork or whatever it was he did in his office. Of which he was very proud. So very proud.

Silas was right. He found Barry in one of the smaller training rooms, working with a large strawberry blonde. Silas vaguely recognized him, but he didn’t bother to try and remember his name. Instead he leaned against the doorway and waited for them to finish this match. The name would come on its own, or not at all; he knew this from experience.

The sparring match ended with Barry on top, his staff inches from his opponents throat. “That was good,” Barry praised, backing off. He reached down to haul the man to his feet. “Better than last time.”

Silas couldn’t tell if the guy was flushed from exertion or something else, mostly because his expression seemed to lean towards serious and yet… well, Silas had  _just_ enough self control to not comment on where his gaze lingered as Barry headed over to Silas.

“Can I help you?” Barry asked, coming to a stop in front of Silas. He folded his arms across his broad chest, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Barry, that only worked when you were taller than me. You’re not so intimidating now. Hell, you weren’t so intimidating then.” Silas arched a brow, uncowed. “You’re about as scary as the tuft of cloud you sit on.”

“I still have an inch on you, you little shit. And I don’t sit on any clouds. Would be awfully wet. What do you want?” Barry was full on ginning back though.

“I needed some advice. You seem busy though, so I was going to wait until you were done.” Silas nodded in the direction of Barry’s opponent -  _Roy, his name was Roy_ \- who was coming to stand at Barry’s elbow.

“We were just about done anyway,” Roy said, right as Silas switched his attention to Barry again. Roy’s steady, confident tone had him giving Roy another glance. At least it earned him a smile before Barry spoke again.

“Since when do you listen to my advice anyway, Silas?” He moved as if to flick Silas’ nose, but let his hand be smacked away. He looked over at Roy. “You sure? Silas can wait.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go on. Caelan is probably going to be looking for me soon. You know how tightly that stick gets wedged up his ass.” Roy shook his head.

“Pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?” Barry called after him, before gesturing for Silas to lead the way. Silas rose both brows, and just gave Barry’s bare chest a pointed look. That earned him a snort. “Oh, don’t start. You wander around shirtless all the time. Get moving, kiddo, I have things to do today. You can still walk and talk right?”

“I’m not thousands of years old, Barachiel. And I already have a reputation. Think of yours.”

“I’m not done training for the day. I have another lesson with the fledglings in about twenty minutes. No point in getting cleaned up just to have another workout.”

“Barry, you’re going to get a lot more done if you wore a shirt. I swear my dad blames you for me being bi.” Silas gave a snort of amusement that Barry echoed fondly.

“Like your father doesn’t swing both ways if he feels like it. He’s just too busy to do anything.” Barry huffed out a breath. “Hell, I’m too busy to do anything.”

“Then stop working so much, God. It’s really simple, Barry.”

Barry leveled him a look. “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, Silas. You of all angels-”

“Yeah, I know, I know. Sorry. It slipped out.” Silas grimaced.

“It slips out far too often for my tastes, and I swear, if you don’t get that look off your face, Silas, I’m going to leave you to deal with your problems on your own. I didn’t mean it in a dirty way and you know it.”

The look Barry flicked him was a touch too serious for Silas’ tastes, so he backed off. Banter was great and all but sometimes he forgot how old Barry was. “Sorry,” he offered, doing his best to sound meek. It was questionable how effective the attempt was; Barry merely snorted. Silas cast around for a better subject, and latched on to the first thing that came to mind. “It’s looking like Roy is your newest protégé. How’d that happen? Isn’t he one of those Soldiers from…” Silas trailed off, unsure of how to continue politely.

“You can call it a breeding program, if you want.” Some of Barry’s usual cheer was missing. “I don’t often disagree with your father, but I don’t… treating them like they’re lesser isn’t going to endear them to full blooded angels, and I would have thought Michael would have seen this already. I mean no disrespect-”

“Barry, you know who you’re talking to. Disrespect away.”

Barry popped him on the back of the head. “That isn’t something to be proud of, Silas.” There was zero sympathy in his eyes as Silas rubbed where he’d been smacked. “Roy was a hell of a lot more hardworking than most of the others, and I figured he could use a good guiding hand that wasn’t looking down on him for having a little human in his bloodline.”

“Whoa, whoa. Save the preaching for someone who needs convincing. He seems a good guy, and you’ve been looking for someone to take under your wing since Lani moved out.”

“Are you accusing me of trying to replace my daughter?” A smile tugged at Barry’s lips despite his stern words.

“Not replace, no, but maybe you’re a bit lonely?” This time he managed to duck the swat Barry aimed at him. He pushed open the door to the training room the fledglings used as he added, “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

“Little shit,” Barry said, tone fond. “You know, he’s into guys. And he could use someone dragging him outside from time to time.”

“I’m dating Lev, Barry. And we aren’t doing an open relationship.”

Barry blinked at that. “You’re still dating Levant?”

Silas wrinkled his nose. “I’m going to try not to be insulted by that. Just because my relationships don’t last long doesn’t mean I’m not capable of having one. Besides, their short lifespans are as much because of my father as they are because they didn’t work out.”

“Now that’s not fair-”

“Charlie-”

Barry shook his head. “They had a promotion. Just because the distance made it-”

Silas backed up a step, stung. “I’m not that petty, Barry, and you know it. Besides, Lawrence-”

“Your father said he was consorting with demons-”

“Because he went on too many unsanctioned trips to earth. With me. And Adarael?” Silas rubbed his face. “Naomi?”

“What happened with Adarael was a  _tragedy_. And I’m sorry-”

At that, Silas swallowed hard, and shook his head. “That’s not why I’m here, Barry. We’ve had this conversation a thousand times over. Just…”

“What do you need?” Barry offered, voice soft this time.

“I… I don’t know what to do. About Lev. We are still together but I swear, it does as much harm as it does good.” The words came out a bit more ragged than Silas had intended. “Between my temper, and how hard he tries to be more for me when I never asked, I can tell its stressing him out. Dad keeps dropping hints about wanting to meet him.”

“What are you asking me?” Barry’s words were careful.

There was a long pause and then Silas said hesitantly, “Should I just let him go? Before something happens to him?”

“What on earth do you think is going to happen to him? He’s Raziel’s grandson. If he’s a little skittish, then that’s something to work on, but Michael isn’t going to do anything to somebody so potentially useful. And that’s even assuming that Michael would do anything at all. I think you’re blowing this a bit out of proportion.” When Silas looked away Barry grabbed his wrist. “Hey, look at me. Do you  _want_  to end it?”

“No,” Silas choked out. “I  _love_  him. I don’t want-”

“Then don’t. Okay? It’ll work out.” Barry hooked an arm around Silas’ neck and pulled him into a hug. “Calm down. One of you two needs to be the level headed one, and we both know Levant isn’t going to be.”

“Very nice,” Silas muttered, shoving at Barry. The movement wasn’t as playful as he would have liked, but it was better than embarrassing himself. “Any other comments you want to make about my boyfriend?”

“Only that you should probably go see him. It’ll calm you down.” Barry grinned, and there was enough mischief in his expression that Silas swore at him playfully.

Even so, an hour later he found himself ducking in Raziel’s house; Lev had spent the weekend here, and if Silas was being honest, he missed the little angel. He poked his head in the first room - a sitting room - and was pleasantly surprised to see Lev curled up on a loveseat in the corner, arm thrown across his eyes and chest rising easily. He seemed at ease here. At home.

Silas crossed the room silently, and settled on the edge of the loveseat. That was enough for Lev to shift, curling towards Silas and settling again. For a few moments Silas fiddled with his shadows and wondered if he should come back. It was only when he heard someone clear their throat that he looked up.

Raziel stood in the doorway, grey eyes as flat as steel as she regarded him. Silas clenched his hand around the little pebble of darkness, and dipped his head in greeting.

“Is this where you tell me not to hurt him?” He asked when he realized she wasn’t going to speak first.

“Do I have to?”

“No ma'am.” His face heated; the ma'am had just slipped out. It had been years since he’d felt this awkward. She smiled at him, a slow expression, but it wasn’t a particularly kind smile. Kind or not, she vanished, leaving Silas alone with Lev, who was stirring for real, finally.

“What are you doing here?” Lev mumbled, levering himself up.

“The weekend seemed long without you.” Silas flattened the bit of darkness out against his thigh, ducking his chin. “I dunno. Seems silly now, but-”

Lev tugged him down for a quick kiss. “Missed you too,” he promised, pressing their foreheads together.

Well. That was that. For now, anyway.

* * *

 

Meeting Michael,  _the_  Michael, was right up there among the most terrifying things Lev had been through to date. He hadn’t expected it, and Michael would not stop watching Lev with those steady, electric eyes. People weren’t kidding when they said Silas looked like a darker version of his father, because those where  _Silas_ ’ eyes, and that was  _Silas_ ’ jawline, and that was  _Silas_ ’ mouth currently smiling faintly at him, but Silas had never made Lev think he was about to have a heart attack with a single glance.

If Lev hadn’t been convinced he was going to die, he might have been impressed. Or something. But he was pretty sure, as Michael walked alongside him -  _towered_  over him - that he was going to die. What other reason would Michael pull him to the side one day and say he wanted to talk to Lev.

Michael. Wanting to  _talk_.

Lev should have expected this. And on a basic level, he had. It had been months since he and Silas had seriously started dating, and they hadn’t tried to be subtle. They still went out, even though it was a coin toss if anyone would pick a fight. And sometimes, sometimes Lev got Silas to ignore the pointed looks and comments. Lev still preferred their nights at home, though. Even training was better than going out.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Michael clearing his throat. Lev hoped he hadn’t jumped at the sound. “I-I’m sorry,” Lev said weakly. “I missed that last bit.”

Michael smiled, and it was genuine, and it was terrifying, and Lev had to remind himself to breathe. “I merely pointed out that you seem to be quite close with my son.”

Lev nodded, rubbing his palm on his pants as he looked for a polite way to agree. “Silas is… he’s helping me a lot-”

“In many ways, I’m sure.”

Lev gave a rather strangled sound, cheeks heating furiously.

Michael’s expression remained mild. Smiling, sure, but it was small. Why did it make Lev’s heart jerk back to cling to his spine, then? “I do hope he’s been able to help with that anxiety as well as the training. Your father was a nervous fledgling, you know, but I’m sure you can grow out of it same as he did.”

Oh. The anxiety. He hadn’t meant… the other stuff. Maybe. Hopefully. You just didn’t talk to your boyfriend’s father about the things you did behind closed doors. “It’s a work in progress,” he finally said, and then bit his lip so hard he tasted blood as Michael raised a single pale eyebrow. “But I’m making progress,” he added hastily. “Lots of it.” He no longer cried at the first hint of confrontation. That was progress, right?

“That’s good!” Michael clapped him on the shoulder, and Lev thought, just for a moment, that his knees would buckle. Would it be a bad thing to let himself faint? At least if he did he wouldn’t have to deal with meeting Michael’s gaze for a few moments. Michael, who was going on to say, “With your bloodlines, I’m sure we can expect great things from you.”

Of course. He had to live up to both his father’s image,  _and_  his grandmother’s. He gave a noncommittal murmur, and ducked his head rather than meet that electric gaze. Silas hadn’t lied about how intense Michael was.

“I’m sure you’re desperate to prove yourself. Most fledglings are, and you have such a high bar to reach.”

It wasn’t like Lev could say no, and so he mumbled something unintelligible and hoped for the best. He wasn’t sure where this was going but he didn’t like it. Nor did he recognize the halls Michael was leading him down. Michael had pulled him into a building near the center of the city, not far from where the Guardians’ barracks were. Lev didn’t often venture into this part of the city; he had no interest in politics, and for the next several blocks there was mostly office buildings. Lev wasn’t entirely sure of the details, mostly because he didn’t want to. He had his path, if he could ever learn how to stuff that aching fear down.

The deeper they went into the building, the more trapped Lev felt, though that might have been at least partially because they were also headed  _down_. Few angels liked being underground like this, and with Lev as keyed up as he was, he was more than a little anxious about it. He swore he could feel the weight of the building pressing down from above. Praying that Michael wasn’t literally going to kill him, Lev pulled to a stop when the archangel did, trying not to squirm under his heavy gaze.

“How much do you know of what your father did, Levant?”

Lev hesitated, and then said, “I know he worked with Raziel, and that he was very good at killing particularly bad demons, especially when sending in a legion wasn’t an option.”

Michael gave a slow nod. “So you know the public version.”

Lev didn’t know how to respond to that. His confusion must have been clear, because Michael laughed.

It wasn’t a soothing laugh.

“Oh, he killed for me, yes. And he spied for me. But he also retrieved demons for me.” Lev must have blinked, flinched, something, because Michael went on. “It’s not a well known program. I find most angels are too squeamish to face what needs to be done. Your father provided demons for me, so we could find a cure for the corruption that eats at them.”

Lev had no idea how to respond to that. He wasn’t sure how to  _feel_  about that. “O-oh,” was all that he could manage. What did Michael even mean, cure them? Sure, demons were twisted beings; every angel knew that. It was one of the first things any fledgling learned about earth. Demons roamed, demons killed, be wary, and never go alone. But they were an entire species. What would happen if that corruption, as Michael called it, was scrubbed clean? Would it change what they were at their core, into something else? Lev couldn’t wrap his mind around it, and it distressed him.

Michael cleared his throat; Lev had missed something. Again. This time he just nodded his head jerkily rather than actually ask for clarification. The smile that earned him wasn’t encouraging.

“I knew I could rely on your family,” Michael said smoothly, all business. It took all of Lev’s self control to keep the sick feeling coiling in his stomach from showing on his face. Now really wasn’t the time to have a meltdown. Especially not while Michael was going on: “I think we’ll start small. You’re still a work in progress, didn’t you say?”

He pushed open the door they’d been standing outside, and Lev’s breath caught. All angels could sense demons, the same way all demons could sense an angel. Lev had heard it described as an distinct feeling of  _wrong_ , but faced with three of them, slumped against the wall with hands and wrists shackled, all he could feel was a sense of  _other_. They looked harmless, not because of the chains, but because of the deadness in their eyes, the dullness to their skin that spoke of too much angel healing in too short a time.

“There is nothing more we can do with them. Even with our healing we’ve pushed them to collapse. I’ll get my hands on more later, eventually, but for now, I thought it best to put them out of their misery. Fitting to have the last of your father’s work concluded by his son, don’t you think?”

Lev couldn’t even bring himself to nod or shake his head or whatever the appropriate response was. The urge to bolt was overwhelming. Where did he expect to go, though? Where did you run if you were running from Michael of all angels? Lev’s fingers twitched, but when Michael offered him a knife - where had that even come from? - he took it.

“You wanted to prove yourself. Show me your progress, Levant.” Where a smile had been before, there was only steely challenge now. Lev dropped his gaze to the demons.

Backing out was… well, it was an option, but what was the cost? Lev’s mouth trembled. Failing at this reflected badly on him, yes, but also on his grandmother. He could do this, couldn’t he?

One of the demons met his gaze full on and he flinched so hard he almost dropped the blade. The demon tipped her head to the side, unnaturally red hair falling with the movement. Oh. Oh God, he couldn’t do this, he was already shaking. He’d never killed anything in his life, and he was pretty sure his lunch was about to end up on his own shoes.

And then, without warning, the demon tipped her chin up. The offer was unmistakable. Lev sucked in a breath through his teeth, fighting back tears. Progress indeed. His hands were shaking and he was lightheaded, and this didn’t feel like progress. It felt like damnation. Michael’s gaze on his back was heavy enough it drove him forward one step. Two. Three. All the way to the demon.

Not a word from behind him, for all Michael’s speeches earlier, and somehow that was worse. All he did was wait, for Lev to grow up, or give up, and either option was horrifying enough that Lev was frozen, heart beating an uneven tattoo so fiercely that he was sure everyone in the room could hear it.

He might have stood there forever, trying to remember how to breathe, if he hadn’t heard Michael moving behind him. It was a subtle sound, likely nothing more than Michael shifting his weight, but it reminded Lev exactly who was behind him. He jerked forward the last step and brought the blade forward.

She never looked away. Didn’t even flinch. And then it was done and, god, that was a lot of red, and every breath hurt, and it felt too close, staring down at her slumped body. Was it normal that the other two had barely reacted? Lev clutched the knife as if holding into it would changed the fact that he’d just  _killed_  someone. He wasn’t even sure how they’d gotten to this point. Talking didn’t usually end in murder. Did it? Or maybe this wasn’t murder. It was just a demon.

Just a demon.

Just-

“You’re not done, Levant.”

Lev shuddered. He did it once, he could do it again. Couldn’t he? A door slamming down the hall made Lev jump. He stepped up to the demon, and tightened his grip on the blade.

The second demon was taller, his dark hair shot through with silver and white, and his green eyes were so pale Lev found himself staring at the stark contrast. A ghost of a smile crossed the demon’s face, and he lifted his chin as well. The gesture had more of a mocking tone to it than the other’s had, but the offer was genuine.

And so Lev slit his throat too.

He was shaking again. Backing up a step earned him a soft noise of disapproval from Michael, and his spine locked. One more, and then he was done and he could go home and crawl into bed and never ever move again. Right? Well, he’d tell himself that, anyway, just to get through this.

The door behind them opened with a bang, startling Lev so much he nearly dropped the knife. He twisted, and then stilled when he saw Silas there. At least Michael looked surprised as well. Rage flickered across Silas’ face, but for once Lev couldn’t find it in himself to be any more terrified than he already was.

In the next heartbeat Silas was at his side, prying the knife from stiff fingers. “Hey, you okay?” How Silas wasn’t flinching away from the blood, Lev didn’t know. He shook his head mutely. “Yeah,” Silas murmured, shrugging out of his jacket so he could wrap it around Lev. “I figured. I’m so sorry.”

“He’s not done,” Michael said. There was no anger, but Lev flinched anyway.

“I think he is.  _Dad_.” If Lev had thought he’d heard Silas angry before, it was nothing compared to Silas now. He waited for the kick of anxiety, but for once all he wanted was to lean into Silas. At least the anger was for him, not at him.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Silas. This is nothing that he wouldn’t have done eventually.”

The argument that was escalating had an old feel to it. Lev closed his eyes, trying to block it out. He was cold, despite the jacket around him. Though why Silas had wrapped him up was beyond him. It wouldn’t cover all the blood, and he was getting the jacket dirty.

He was vaguely aware of Silas leading them away so clearly the argument was on pause for now but at this point Lev couldn’t bring himself to care. He would much rather worry about the jacket. That was easier than reflecting that he’d just killed someone.

Killed. As in, they would not be coming back. There was no second chance. If the tears bothered Silas, it went uncommented on. Hysterics threatened to choke Lev, but at least he wasn’t in front of Michael anymore.

No, in fact he was in his own bathroom. Somehow. He had no memory of getting here. Silas crouched in front of him, hands hesitant as he curled his fingers under Lev’s chin. “Can you clean yourself up?” He asked, a patience to his tone that suggested that he’d already asked Lev this multiple times. Not that it mattered. Lev stared at him blankly. Was there any cleaning all this blood off of him? Just demons, and yet he felt awful. What kind of angel was he?

Silas sighed softly, and slid the jacket off Lev’s shoulders. “Come on,” he coaxed. “Work with me, yeah?”

This time Lev nodded, and plucked at his shirt, starting to pull it off. Silas brushed his cheek with gentle fingers, and then he left Lev alone.

It took Lev longer than it should have to get everything gone, and by the time he was sure he was clean, he felt rubbed raw. He was shaking again, but Silas had left him clothes, so he struggled into those before slipping into the main room. Silas was sitting on Lev’s bed, arms braced in his knees, and head low. He looked up when Lev approached, and he let Lev settle in his lap. That was better. At least Lev was cried out by now.

“I can’t… I can’t do this, Lev,” Silas said after a moment, and then winced. “That sounded bad, didn’t it?”

Lev didn’t say anything. Something in his chest began to ache again, a building pressure that he knew meant he wasn’t going to like this.

Silas’ arms tightened around him. “And really not the time, either. I’m… we’ll talk tomorrow. We can have this. Okay?”

Lev gave a nod. What else could he do? Put it off, even if he knew what was coming. Tomorrow, tomorrow, but at least he could stay in Silas’ arms and at least Silas didn’t offer anything but comfort when he started to cry again.

He hoped tomorrow never came.

* * *

 

Dinner with his father was always painful, but he didn’t usually go into them already in a foul mood. He could thank his father for that. Silas had ended things with Lev the morning before and he’d be lying if the blank look Lev had given him through the whole conversation hadn’t haunted him ever since. There had been tears, sure, but the defeated way he’d just let them  _fall_ …

Silas hated it. Hated all of this. It felt like his anger as a physical thing, crawling under his skin, and it left him more restless than usual. Lev had deserved better than this, and Silas should have realized that sooner. And he should have found a better way to break it off, because he couldn’t get Lev’s expression out of his head. He hadn’t even protested, like he’d expected it. Which, to be fair, Silas had pretty much admitted that he was going to the night before, but even  _then_ , Lev had just… accepted it, and Silas wasn’t sure how to handle that. It felt like he’d failed in some way, that Lev had been waiting for him to be done with him. Silas wasn’t like that. That Lev would think him capable of it cut deep, but he also worried about Lev. Lev shouldn’t have had so low an opinion of himself, that he was convinced it was so easy to walk away.

Silas glared at his plate, and wished he’d just blown his father off. If Michael had stayed the hell out of it Silas might have convinced himself it was okay. He wasn’t going to let Michael anywhere near Lev ever again, even if it meant keeping a very strict distance between them. He wished he could tell himself that if he waited long enough, he could try again, but Michael would never forget, and Silas flat out refused to put Lev through that. Not again. If one meeting with his father had Lev such a mess, another might completely shatter him.

“I hear you got in another fight with Zakiah this morning.”

Silas could never tell if his father was deliberately looking for things to piss him off, or if he stumbled across the right pressure points with remarkably accidental accuracy. Zakiah had made the mistake of needling him about Lev. Silas could almost swear he still felt the ache in his knuckles. The skin had long since healed over, and he knew he hadn’t broken anything - except maybe Zakiah’s nose - and yet the phantom ache lingered.

“Zakiah’s mentor says the animosity between you two hasn’t eased in the last few years. Is there something you need to tell me?” How Michael’s fork plinking softly against the table could sound threatening was beyond Silas, but it was enough to have Silas jerking his chin up.

“Zakiah is a bully. And a raging dickwad. We don’t get along because he’s such a massive fucking-”

“Is the profanity really necessary?” Michael lifted a single eyebrow.

Silas shoved his plate away. He wasn’t hungry. The impulse to get up and pace was nearly unbearable. Michael would have taken it as a sign of weakness, like he always did when Silas got restless. He didn’t know how to explain the movement helped him think; as Michael always said, he should be mature enough to hold still, like the warrior, soldier, the perfect son to take orders and hold his damn tongue.

But Silas had never been one to keep quiet. If something bothered him, he said so, or he fixed it himself. That impulsivity did him no favors, but he didn’t know how to stop, either.

“Sulking is below you, Silas.”

_And let the lectures begin_ , Silas thought, mouth twisting. He really should have just stayed home. Fuck this. As he bounced his leg absently, he wondered just how much trouble it would cause if he simply got up and left.

“You’re being childish, Silas. I thought you were past all of this nonsense. Don’t you think it’s time to grow up?” Michael’s tone was perfectly mild. Somehow it still managed to be damning at the same time.

Silas stood, his movements abrupt enough that his chair gave a protesting screech. When that earned him a look from Michael, he muttered, “I’m not hungry. I’ll see you next week.”

“How long are you going to throw a tantrum over this, Silas?” His father demanded, standing as well when Silas headed for the door. “Just because you’re dating the fledgling doesn’t mean he is exempt from his duty to heaven.”

Silas spun on his heel. His hands fisted at his sides as he said as calmly as he could, “He isn’t a fledgling, and hasn’t been for years. And we aren’t dating. Not… not anymore.”

The corner of Michael’s mouth twitched before his expression smoothed back into a frown. “It’s for the best, I suppose.”

Silas froze. “Excuse me?” He asked quietly, something hot and violent curling in his chest.

“Between you and me, that fledgling will never make it far. A gentle heart is one thing; a coward will not survive long in our world. You could do so much better for yourself. You  _should_  do better for yourself.”

There was no hesitation; Silas acted without considering the consequences, as was his habit. His fist landed solidly in his father’s face. After that he managed another solid hit to Michael’s gut before the archangel caught up. Michael shoved him back, hard enough his back hit the wall before he could swing again.

Michael shoved his forearm against Silas’ throat, pressing until Silas wheezed slightly. “You  _will_ calm down,” Michael said, his tone as even as ever.

Silas glared, but when he shoved, his father was as immovable as a mountain. Any attempt to squirm away was thwarted, and all he ended up succeeding in was encouraging Michael to apply more pressure. “Dad,” he finally croaked, desperate.

Michael waited another two heartbeats before he relented. Silas nearly choked on his first breath and started coughing. 

“I hate when you force my hand like that, Silas,” Michael said. Silas couldn’t find it in him to glare anymore. “You should be old enough to control your temper by now.”

Silas dropped his gaze to the floor, trying to calm his breathing. There was no one in the world besides his father who could make him feel so helpless. He wasn’t sure he’d ever had any sort of control over this situation. Half the time he was convinced his father said those sort of things just to set him off again. It wouldn’t surprise him. Tonight he didn’t wait for his father to say anything else. Another fight would get them nowhere. Despite everything, he was careful not to slam the door behind him.

* * *

 

The first several months had been hell. Silas fought with his impulse to check on Lev. He could trust Zuriel and Raziel go keep an eye on Lev; they had, after all, been doing so most of Lev’s life. So he didn’t ask, he didn’t poke around, he kept his head down and threw himself into training.

Barry succeeded in talking him into starting to work with his new star pupil. Roy turned out to be an interesting sparring partner, if only because he kept Silas on his toes. It was a distraction, and a good one, because Roy continued to surprise him constantly. For someone with human diluting his bloodline, Roy was quick and strong, and clearly dedicated to being the best. Silas admired that. Sure, Silas had the same drive, but there was an aching fear behind it that pushed him further and further. Only being the best there was would satisfy Michael, and it was bad enough Silas struggled with reading and remembering to do things and staying still and keeping calm and any other little flaw Michael could find to pick Silas apart bit by bit.

Roy, on the other hand, worked just as hard, and from what Silas could see it was all through sheer single minded determination. All the power to him, because it worked, and they pushed each other hard to be better whenever they sparred.

Silas couldn’t spar all the time, though, and he took to slipping away to earth. It was a massive, bustling place, and he could get lost in it easily. Going alone was all but inviting trouble, but somehow, for once, Silas found himself left in peace. The lectures he got from his father were worth it; he found enough quiet lost in the gentle chaos of earth that he managed to keep his temper on a leash and his mouth (mostly) shut.

The months bled together, and Silas started to relax a little. Zakiah had been moved to another city, and things in the training room were a lot less tense with him gone. Barachiel roped Silas into teaching a class of fledglings. The fledglings were a nice change of pace, because within two lessons they went from terrified of Silas, Michael’s son, to delighted that Silas, the teacher, was so very easily distracted into tangents. Silas couldn’t even get mad. He remember doing the same thing to Barry. With far less success, too.

At some point, Lani started dragging him out to see her girlfriend, Deryn. He suspected this was thanks to Barry, but he didn’t say anything. Not when he discovered Deryn’s house always had half a dozen hounds of heaven in it at any given time. Deryn promised to teach him the basics of training. Working with the hounds would never be a viable path for him to take in life, but he enjoyed getting the chance to work with the hounds.

He pretended not to notice how Lani and Deryn somehow always ended up in each other’s laps at some point or another. He couldn’t begrudge them their relationship, but he did find himself missing Lev more fiercely on those days. He kept that sort of thing to himself; he didn’t want them to feel obligated to stop.

After that disastrous dinner with Michael all those months and months and months ago, Silas had done his best to get out of the rest. Sometimes he succeeded for weeks at a time. It helped that Michael was busy. Running heaven was a full time job when someone decided to stick his nose into everything and anything going on. The nights they did have dinner Silas kept his mouth firmly shut and did his best to ignore his father whenever possible. Being accused of constantly being distracted was preferable to getting into a real argument.

Arguments couldn’t be avoided forever. And most of the time their arguments were still over petty things. Michael usually won them. of course he did. But at least he had the sense to not bring Lev up, and Silas found he could live with their occasional spats so long as Michael didn’t poke at that sore spot again.

Of course that meant, eventually, Michael would, and he didn’t hold back.

The subject was brought up out of the blue, well over a year and a half after everything had settled (or maybe it was two years? Or three, perhaps. Heaven didn’t do  _seasons_  the way earth did, and Silas had always been a bit bad at keeping track of time, especially when he was deliberately distracting himself.) However long it had been, it wasn’t long enough to stop himself from jerking a bit when his father oh-so-casually asked if he’d heard the news about “Raziel’s grandson.”

That was never a good way to put things, and there was too much of an edge to Michael’s expression for this to be anything other than bad news. He was  _looking_  for a reaction, and Silas had already given one without thinking it through. Silas pressed his lips together and then said carefully, “What about him?”

“I suppose you’ll be glad you ended things when you did. He was caught in a relationship with a demon on earth. Practically playing house.” Something flickered in Michael’s expression, probably searching for Silas’ reaction, but Silas had gone cold. Michael went on, tone mild as ever, to say, “He lost his wings for it. You really didn’t hear about this? He was cast out  _weeks_  ago.”

Weeks? Silas stared at his father. Weeks, and no one had said anything to him? And what the hell was Lev doing with a demon? It didn’t compute. Lev was terrified of… everything. Surely this had to be a set up. He wouldn’t put it past his father at all. There would be no proving it, and accusing his father of something like that would only cause more trouble.

He was on his feet before he registered deciding to stand. It was suddenly the easiest thing in the world to ignore his father’s questions as he walked out the door and kept going. There would be hell to pay for that later, but if he stayed another moment longer he was afraid he’d lose his temper. Or his mind. One of the two.

It took him hours of walking to find himself standing at Deryn’s door. He knocked once, twice, and before he could knock a third time, she opened the door to blink sleepily up at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said automatically, wincing. “Did I wake you up?”

She shrugged. “I shouldn’t be napping at this time of…” She leaned to the side to look past him, and then back up, “Oh. It’s … late. Probably good you woke me up. It’s been a day.” Behind her, Lucky whined. “Come on. What’s up?” She stepped aside, and he followed her inside as Lucky reared up to plant loving kisses on Silas’ face.

“Well,” he said, pushing Lucky off as gently as he could. “I need a favor. And a hound.”

She blinked at him, some of the sleepiness fading from her expression. “I’m listening.”

Silas ran his hand over Lucky’s head, ordering his thoughts. After a moment he took a small breath and outlined his request. When he was done, Deryn gave him a small smile.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I can do that.” She snapped her fingers, and Lucky bounced over to settle on the couch beside her, leaning against her. “It’s not an overnight sort of thing-”

“I know. I get it.” He paused. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part Eight of the main story will be up either Wednesday or Thursday of next week!


	14. Part Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cyrus can't leave Angela to deal with a hysterical angel on her own, especially when it's his fault in the first place she has to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! No death or gore or anything like that in this chapter.

The house wasn’t quite the chaos Cyrus had been afraid he would walk into, but he winced anyway. Fabius was making coffee in the kitchen, and shot Cyrus an apologetic look. “Ange kicked me out of the bedroom,” he said, as if this was some great confession. He and Cyrus stood there for a moment, and then Fabius added, “There was some burnt bread. I tossed it out. I hope it wasn’t a problem.”

Cyrus grimaced at him, and made a vague “carry on” motion with his hand as he walked past. Angela was leaning against the doorway of the main bedroom, watching whatever mess was in there unfold. She snapped her attention to him, chin raised, the moment he approached.

“The hell did you do? The angel hasn’t stopped sobbing since you left, and I can’t figure out what you did to the other one.”

“I took away the angel’s pain briefly. It was the only way to get him moving.” Cy held up his hands defensively, and she still smacked him.

“Idiot. You know that makes it ten times worse later on. And judging by how he’s handling it, he’s-”

“I know, alright? I know, I just didn’t have a way to carry them both,” Cyrus protested.

“Why didn’t you just levitate the body?” Angela braced her hands on her hips, tipping her chin up again.

Cyrus blinked. And blinked again. “Oh,” he said faintly. “I didn’t… think of that.”

“Obviously.”

Cyrus rubbed his face. “Sorry. I had a few things on my mind at the time.”

To his surprise, she slid an arm around his waist and gave him a brief hug. “It takes a while to get used to, when you didn’t grow up with it. I get it. Just, if you’re going to use magic to solve your problems, use it smart, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Cyrus squeezed back, before stepping into the room. “Levant?”

The angel was hunched on the edge of the bed, eyes red, mangled hand still clutched to his chest, and while he wasn’t sobbing, he hadn’t stopped crying. Lev didn’t even look at him, didn’t move. Cyrus found himself double checking that the angel was still breathing. Of course he was, Cyrus thought, but  _still_.

At least he didn’t protest Cyrus’ presence. Cy moved slowly, afraid to startle him. The closer he got, the more he realized nothing had been done about any of the many, many wounds that still littered his body. He turned long enough to frown at Angela, but she was gone. Judging by the sounds coming from the kitchen, she and Fabius were arguing over her coffee consumption again.

“Why are you here?” Levant whispered, startling Cy.

Cyrus braced a knee on the edge of the bed and started rolling up his sleeves. “I promised to keep Sorin on the right path. I didn’t do enough to stop him from fighting Fairfax, but I was able to do this, at least.” He nodded at Fax.

“Kill him?”

“God, no.” Cyrus frowned. “I saved his life.” Combining spells was tricky; he’d ended up trying to weave the spell for making someone fireproof with a stasis spell. It took some doing, as he hovered his hand over Fax’s chest, and then dragged it towards Fax’s face, fisting his hand as if grabbing a blanket. He mumbled the reversal spell as he reached Fax’s head and pulled back, hand still clutching the imaginary blanket as he moved off the bed.

Fax jerked up with a hoarse gasp right as the magic fled Cy, draining from him so fast he stumbled. For a brief moment, his head spun. Too much, too fast. He should have thought of that. On the bed he could hear Lev and Fax trying to talk over each other, as if they didn’t even notice the witch who was about five seconds from face planting on their bedroom floor.

“Here.” Angela appeared at his side and tugged him to sit on the edge of the desk nearby. He didn’t protest. “Is it worth it to scold you for not asking Fabius to help fuel the spell?”

“Shit,” Cyrus said, and then winced at how rough his voice was. “Would you believe me if I said I forgot?” Well. He just hadn’t considered tapping into any demon’s magic but Sorin’s. Close enough.

“Does it matter?” Angela flicked his arm, and then paused as from the bed, Fax said something that had Lev bursting into tears. Angela and Cyrus both frowned in their direction.

Fax had Lev bundled in his lap awkwardly. He returned the witches’ frowns with a helpless book. “Lev, it’s not just your bread, I promise, I just really hate bananas.”

“Demons,” Angela muttered, before patting Cy on the shoulder. “Coffee?”

“Decaf?” He asked, hopeful.

She wrinkled her nose. “Heathen,” she said, mildly, before adding, “I’ll see what I can do, Cy.”

Fax cleared his throat to get Cy’s attention the moment Angela was gone. “Where’s Sorin?” He asked when Cyrus looked up. “Does he-”

“No. He doesn’t know.” The words felt… wrong. Not because they were a lie, but because keeping this from Sorin was such an alien idea. Telling him was such an obvious way to make him blow up again that Cy wanted to put it off, at least until he could figure out a way to calm him back down again.

Fax seemed to take that as permission to go back to his comforting of the angel. Which, to be fair, the angel needed. He was still sobbing, although Cy was willing to chalk that up to the pain spell wearing off, too.

“You can’t keep doing this to Sorin,” Cyrus finally said. Fax jerked, looking up again. “I don’t know what the hell you did, that convinced him that he’s just a pity case, and I could be wrong, it could be the rest of his family more than you, but he worshipped you. And you never paid attention. Not enough. How the hell did you miss how angry you were making him?”

Fax ducked his head to press his cheek to Lev’s. “I didn’t…”

That was all Cyrus got. Fax fell silent after that. Pushing him for more was beyond Cyrus. Not while Fax had just un-died. Even though he hadn’t been dead. Whatever this was. Cyrus was exhausted, and there was a distinct emptiness to his bones where he was used to feeling the hum of magic. He had well and truly drained himself.

Before he could gather himself enough to try and talk to Fax again, Angela reappeared. She pressed a warm mug in his hands, and then leaned against the desk. “Not to butt in, but I’m not sure a lecture is the best idea. Not right now.” She nudged him with her elbow. “He just almost died, and you look like you’re going to keel over if I breathe too hard in your direction.”

“Ha. Ha. I’m not that tired.” Cyrus wrinkled his nose. In response, Angela gave him a small shove. There was little force to it, but Cyrus swayed anyway. He stuck his tongue out at her, before taking a sip of his coffee. “When do you have to go?”

“Now, actually. You sure you can handle all… this?” She nodded at Fax and Lev. At least the angel had quieted, though his face was firmly buried in Fax’s collarbone, and he didn’t look like he was moving any time soon.

“Yeah. I’ll call if I need help.” Cy smiled a bit. “Thanks, Ange. For everything.”

“Be gentle. If you wanna give anyone an earful, your pissant of a boyfriend is in hell.”

“Hey, you used to like my boyfriend,” Cy called to her retreating back.

She paused in the doorway to glance back at him. “Yeah, well, that was before he carved up an angel who looks like someone saying boo too loudly would give him a heart attack.”

Cyrus couldn’t argue with that, so he grimaced at her and let her leave without protest. He glanced back at the bed, and was startled to find Fax’s gaze on him.

“How does this work?”

Cyrus blinked at him tiredly. “How does what work?”

“Sorin doesn’t know,” Fax said slowly. “He doesn’t know I’m alive. So how does this work? Are there rules or-”

“Christ, Fairfax, just use common sense. I’ll tell him. Eventually. As soon as I figure out how.” Cy tightened his hands around the mug. As he cast about for kinder words, his gaze settled on the raw wounds on the angel’s back. The sheer cruelty of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks, all over again. This whole thing had spiraled too far, and he was grasping at straws. “I’m sorry. I just… I never meant for him to have the chance to hurt you. Or the angel. I thought if he fought and won he’d… calm down. I thought he  _had_  stopped.”

Fax gave a slow nod. “I set him off again,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, you sure as hell did. Do you not realize how condescending that sounded?” Cy shook his head, and busied himself with his coffee. “Everything got complicated. And you both got hurt.”

“I don’t know how to fix this,” Fax admitted. “I never realized… But I don’t want him to hate me.”

“I don’t know if there is a fixing this. I still don’t understand enough to figure out what made him so angry.” Cyrus rubbed his face. “I’m too tired to think, much less puzzle through the mess you and your cousin have created. I’ll figure it out but I need more time.”

“You need rest,” Fax offered. “We have a guest bedroom. You should sleep.”

“I should get back to Sorin,” Cyrus countered, but he knew even as he said that showing up half dead with exhaustion was only going to raise questions.

Fax frowned at him, but after a moment his expression smoothed. “I have to take care of Lev,” he said finally. “He’s not healing. The offer stands, if you want, though.”

“He’s not healing because he has no magic left. Let him rest, let him eat, and he’ll recover.” If he was lucky, maybe without scars. Cyrus took a breath to steady himself, and stood. Yeah, no, he’d take that nap, he decided tiredly.

“Thank you, Cyrus,” Fax murmured. “For everything.” Cy managed a nod, and made his way to the guest bedroom. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea when the next update will be, to be frank. It could be in a week, it could be in a couple of days. I don't plan on having a very long wait time though.


	15. Part Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *jazz hands* things couldn't possibly get any worse, right?

Fax paused on his way out of the bathroom to glance in the mirror. Today had been a mess. Or yesterday. The past twenty four hours. Whatever. He was too tired to figure out the math.

Things were too weird, and he didn’t know how to process it. He had a witch sleeping in his guest bedroom, his cousin had tried to kill him, and Lev was on his bed, half patched up and waiting for him. Nothing made sense anymore, and Fax wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. Pretend nothing happened? Fax didn’t know if he could. Lev was a mess, physically, and emotionally. He’d only just begun to be happy again, to relax and breathe, and Fax didn’t want to see him back to crying in the bathroom, or huddled in the bed for hours. Fax barely knew how to take care of Lev before. What was he supposed to do now, when he was half inclined to do the same thing?

Not that it would stop him from trying. He would do his best. After letting this whole thing happen he had to. He should have been there to protect Lev. Even if he probably wouldn’t have been enough, maybe Fax being there to fail sooner would have ensured that Lev wouldn’t be harmed. The witch seemed to have protected Lev when Fax had died (not-died?). These what if games were giving Fax a headache, and he hated it, but-

“Fax?” Lev called quietly, voice cracking.

Fax hurried from the bathroom, fresh supplies in hand. Lev was waiting on the bed, head drooping, and Fax could tell he was shaking, but Lev still smiled a little bit when he saw Fax. Tears still slid down Lev’s face, but he was quiet, even as he leaned into the hand Fax pressed to his cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” Fax whispered, bracing a knee on the edge of the bed so he could press a kiss to the top of Lev’s head. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

Lev grabbed his wrist. “Not your fault. Just… don’t leave me again. I can’t go through that again.”

Fax’s heart twisted. “I won’t,” he promised hoarsely. He pressed another kiss for good measure, this one to Lev’s forehead, and then he shifted behind Lev to finally start patching up his back.

It was bad. Raw and red and painful, and Fax wasn’t sure how Lev was just sitting there, crying silently, while his back was still bleeding. Cleaning it up took twice as long as it should have because every time Lev flinched Fax paused, waited for reassurance, pressed a kiss to any bit of skin that he could find that didn’t have bruises or cuts or scrapes.

They got it done, though, and then Lev crawled into Fax’s lap again and buried his face in Fax’s neck. Fax fumbled for a bit, trying to find a safe place to put his arms. In the end Lev reached around and tugged Fax’s arms into place himself.

“You should sleep,” Fax murmured. “So you can heal.” And maybe stop shaking. He pressed a kiss to Lev’s hair, and then rested his cheek against Lev. “I need to feed the cats.”

“The demon took care of it. I heard him puttering around in the kitchen. I didn’t… I didn’t catch his name.” The words were muffled, likely by Fax’s neck. “They ate. Especially Needles.” Lev paused, and then added a little sadly, “He called Needles tubby.”

Fax groaned softly. “Nee does have some pudge. Nee is also why we keep the cat food locked away. It’s not like the cats had nametags, and that’s a lot of cats to look at too.”

Lev gave a discontented mumble, but didn’t press. Instead, he tried, “I don’t want to sleep. I want to stay with you.”

Fax traced a path with a finger between bruises and cuts and burns, sticking to unhurt skin as best he could. “You should sleep. You need it. Food, and rest, until your healing kicks in.” He hoped none of this scarred. Lev had enough of those, and he didn’t need any more reminders. Especially not that awful ‘please’ burned into his chest. Just thinking about it had him tightening his arms around Lev. No matter what he said, he didn’t want to let Lev go, either.

“How about,” Lev suggested quietly, “we try the eating thing? I can sit at the table and then we can rest on the couch. Rest doesn’t have to mean sleep, does it?”

“Sleep would be best,” Fax argued, but he was already shifting to stand. Lev wiggled free before he could try to carry the angel, and after glancing at the bandages on his back, Fax decided that was a good call. Instead he stuck close, in case Lev suddenly collapsed. Not that it was super likely, even if Lev was visibly limping. Fax just worried.

Lev settled at the kitchen table gingerly. Even that had Fax wincing in sympathy. Unfair, but thinking that constantly wouldn’t change anything, so Fax went about warming up some milk for comfort’s sake, and then rummaged around for some leftover soup to heat up as well. Lev watched him the entire time. His gaze was a heavy weight on Fax’s back, but when Fax glanced over, at least two of the cats had already settled nearby, as if standing guard. A smile tugged at Lev’s lips, and if the expression was tired, at least it was there as Lev reached out to run his good hand down the nearest cat’s back.

Fax settled beside Lev and watched him eat. That earned him an amused look from Lev, who leaned into him despite the sharp breath that told Fax it wasn’t exactly comfortable.

“I love you,” Fax promised. In response Lev took another bite.

Eating proved to be a good idea after all, because Lev all but inhaled his soup. Fax ended up fixing him a second bowl, but by the time he finished that, he looked so drowsy that Fax ended up scooping him up. Bridal style wasn’t an option, and Lev looked predictably embarrassed as Fax compromised by wrapping Lev’s legs around his waist so he could carry him that way. He made up for it with a soft kiss, though that was cut short when Lev winced.

“Sorry,” Fax whispered.

Lev shook his head. He didn’t speak, though. Not until Fax settled on the couch. It took some shifting and apologies when Lev gasped or flinched, but they got settled enough for Lev to close his eyes.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Lev whispered, his good hand fisting in Fax’s shirt.

“I won’t.” Fax went back to tracing patterns between wounds, fingers light and hopefully comforting. Lev crashed quickly, just like Fax had hoped he would. Fax let out a small sigh. He’d hold still, he promised himself, and let Lev sleep as long as he needed.

This was a solid plan, for at least another half hour. Not forever, though. The front door opened, and Fax stiffened as Sorin froze on the threshold. Fax stifled the instinct to shush him. Instead he tightened an arm around Lev, and braced himself.

“You’re… you’re alive,” Sorin breathed. Pain and hope flickered across his face, before his expression shuttered, and his mouth pulled tight. When he spoke again, his tone was flat. “You’re alive. How.”

Fax pressed his cheek to Lev’s head, unsure of what to say. He didn’t want to throw Cyrus under the bus, and so he said nothing at all whole he tried to piece together a good answer.

“ _How_.”

Sorin’s snarl woke Lev, who jerked when he saw who it was, and then gave a low noise of terror. Fax shifted. His flames would never compete with Sorin’s, that much had been proven already, but he would still try to shield Lev from it, however long he could.

The guest bedroom door opened, and Cyrus appeared, looking half asleep. Magic spluttered at his fingertips. “Sorin, wait. Don’t blame him.”

Sorin swing his burning gaze to Cyrus. “So I should blame you, then?”

“If it makes you feel better, then sure,” Cyrus said levely. He leaned against the doorframe. “I did this. I had to stop you somehow.”

“You  _lied_  to me. You let me-”

“I couldn’t stop you without you shutting me out. You wouldn’t listen to reason, and it was all I could do to handle the situation.”

“You make it sound like I’m a child to be controlled!” Sorin flung a hand up, and Lev flinched into Fax at the explosive motion. “You let me grieve for him. When were you planning on telling me?”

“Maybe if you didn’t act like a child I wouldn’t treat you like one,” Cyrus shot back, before visibly trying to gentle his tone. “Rin, I’m sorry, but this was the only solution I could think of. I was going to tell you. Just, when you weren’t going to set yourself on fire when you found out.”

Sorin snarled again, but let his magic settle. Fax didn’t relax, and instead flicked his attention between them warily, unsure of what to do. Any sort of movement might be taken as a challenge,and he didn’t want to set Sorin off even more.

“Right. You were going to tell me.” Sorin had gone still, quiet. Fax searched his face for any sign of that rage. He found nothing. “You expect me to believe that after you hid this from me?”

“I expect you to understand I was trying to help you. How could you think I’d have anything but your best interests at heart?” Cyrus demanded. “After everything you did for me, everything I’ve done for you?”

“You made me think I killed my cousin-”

“You damn near did, Sorin! You don’t get to use that! What is wrong with you? Can’t you calm down for once in your life and think about things before flying off the handle?” Cyrus moved from the doorway, and Fax spared him a glance long enough to see the worry etched into his face. “I’m trying to help, Rin. And you’re not making this easy. You know what it’s like, watching you let this eat you up inside? It kills me, Sorin, especially when all you had to do was sit down and  _talk_  to him.”

Getting Sorin’s attention redirected at him didn’t feel the safest route to Fax, but he sat still, arms still around Lev. His angel was burrowed close, shaking, and Fax hated it, but all he could do to comfort was hold Lev until this was over.

Luckily, Sorin barely spared him a glance before snapping his attention back to Cyrus. “If I’m so much trouble for you, maybe I should just go. I’d hate to be any more of a burden to you than I already am.”

“Rin, that’s not what-”

Fire bloomed white hot between Cyrus and Sorin. Fax reached for what little magic he had left, bracing himself to have to step in. Again, Sorin had eyes only for Cyrus.

“Don’t. Just… Don’t. And don’t fucking follow me. If I’m so hard to be around, then I don’t need to be around you.” Sorin backed up, and when Cy tried to step close again, the flames flashed brighter. “I mean it, Cyrus. You proved I can’t trust you. You chose  _him_  over me.”

“That’s not what I did, Sorin, how dense are you going to be about this? You clearly couldn’t handle losing your cousin; I tried to save you from your own irrational decisions.” Cyrus waved a hand, clearing a path in the flames. “How could you think I was choosing him over you?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s the part where you lied to me, vanished for hours, and when I came looking for you to make sure you were not getting murdered, I find you in  _his_  house. You pretended he was dead. I’m- this is embarrassing enough with him watching. I’m done, okay? Do whatever the fuck you want, sympathize with him like everyone else. I can’t stick around and watch.”

This time he left, slamming the door behind him. The flames vanished as if they’d never been. Fax pressed his nose to the to of Lev’s head, whispering assurances. Lev just shook his head and refused to look up, so Fax turned his attention to Cyrus.

The poor guy looked like he’d been suckerpunched. He leaned against the wall, face tight and eyes suspiciously bright. After an uncomfortably long beat, he reached up and swiped at his cheeks. “I’ll talk to him later. He just needs some space. He’ll come around.”

Fax gave a soft murmur, neither an agreement nor a disagreement. Cyrus shot him a look, and so Fax cleared his throat awkwardly. “You should probably-” He broke off, and then tried again. “You look like you’re going to keel over.”

“Thanks,” Cyrus said dryly, before straightening. “It might be better if I just go-”

“No,” Fax said, a bit more firmly. “Go back to sleep. With any luck he won’t be back until you’re rested.”

“He’s not coming back. I’ll have to go find him, talk him down.” There was a lingering,  _‘like usual’_  in the air.

“Still,” Fax pressed. “Sleep would be good for you.”

Cyrus leveled him a look, but luckily he was certain enough in this that Fax didn’t look away. In the end, Cyrus gave a sigh, and padded back to the bedroom, closing it behind him.

Lev sniffed, hard. “I thought it was over,” Lev whispered.

Fax gave a hollow laugh. “I’m not sure if this will ever be over, at this rate. We’ll just have to keep rolling with it until things settle.”

“I don’t know if I can, Fax. I’m tired. And I hurt. So much. And I’m scared.” Lev lifted his head. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t. Not again. I promise.” Fax pressed a kiss to Lev’s temple. “I will never leave you again.” No matter how hard the world seemed hell bent on separating them.


	16. Part Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorin's a big baby and needs to grow up tbh.

The anger writhed in his gut like a living thing, thrashing and burning its way through him. Sorin hated it. He hated the way it left him shaking and restless like nothing else. In the end, he couldn’t even stand to go home, and so once he got back to hell, still fuming, he didn’t bother. It’d just smell like Cyrus and it’d only make everything worse. Instead he detoured out of the city and deeper into hell.

It didn’t take him long to find his favorite hellscape. Hell must have been listening, a rarity indeed. The scape was massive, quiet, and few humans ended up here. Sorin shifted the moment he stepped foot in the pale jungle. He’d blend better this way; unlike a jungle on earth, this one was entirely in greyscale. While his demonic form did have ginger tabby markings on the head and tail, the rest was white. It was less color to be in this feline form than as a humanoid. Any souls wandering in this hellscape would easily be seen before he was, and he could head in the opposite direction long before anyone got close enough to annoy him.

Well, annoy him more than he already was.

With an easy heave, he jumped up into the nearest tree, digging his claws in as he scrambled up to the nearest branch. Not for the first time he thanked what stars had blessed him that this form had thumbs to help grip. One of his cousins (twice removed,if he wasn’t mistaken) had a similar firm. Unfortunately, that cousin was both small (compared to Sorin’s unnatural size, anyway) and very little was changed. A regular house cat, practically. Though his cousin found it quite funny to joke shout being a traditional familiar for her witch.

Sorin shook off these thoughts, and then regretted dismissing a much needed distraction. The anger still churned, leaving his fur on end. He ached to dig his claws into something. As he padded along the branch, he swiveled his ears im an effort to catch any stray sound. He almost hoped he did. As sharp as his senses were in his human form, he did miss this form’s. This form felt like home. The fluid, feline grace translated somewhat to his human form, but never enough for his tastes. It was something Cyrus had understood, even if Sorin had rarely felt brave enough to stay a cat.

And he was back to Cyrus again. It was like the witch had touched every part of his life. He couldn’t get away from him.

He hopped to the next branch, tail lashing both in agitation and for balance. The other thing he liked about his demonic form was that it was easier to simply dig his claws into something instead of letting his magic lash out. A tree wouldn’t complain that he was shredding it’s bark.

He lashed his tail again for good measure, and then climbed higher. As if that would ease the ache in his chest. He didn’t know what to feel. To think. He just knew it ate at him, and so his solution was to climb, to keep moving, until he no longer felt like he was going to circle back and give Cyrus another earful. He’d managed to not lash out at Cy once but there was always later.

Terror. Terror was one of the feelings he was struggling with. Terror that his temper would get the best of him in a way he couldn’t take back.

He batted a silver leaf out of his way, and then crouched low. Of all the people he’d been angry with, Cyrus had never been one. Even in the moment he’d been scared of his own fury. He’d never been afraid of his anger before, and it had left him off kilter. He flicked his ears back and gave a low growl, just to give voice to his frustration. The sound echoed and rebounded back to him, over and over from all directions, before abruptly vanishing as if it never had been.

Movement below caught his attention. Time to move on, then. He launched himself at a nearby branch, and then another, losing himself in the repetitive motions as he fled deeper and deeper into the jungle, angling higher still, until he hit the end of of the treeline, and stared out over the bleached, bare expanse before him. Nothing but skeletal trees and wind over there.

He fluffed his fur against the wind. Maybe he’d been too hasty when he’d said those things, but it was a little too late to take them back. His pride simply wouldn’t allow it. Besides. It wasn’t like he needed Cyrus to be happy. He’d gotten along just fine before the witch, and he’d get along just fine without him.

Yeah, right.

He sat, and he stewed, and he thought in circles, until all he knew was he was glad Fax was alive. But he couldn’t stand that Cyrus had lied to him. And that made things complicated. That left everything tied up in knots in his stomach, and that was why he’d been sitting here for what felt like hours, what might have actually been hours, trying to convince himself to go back. He wanted to. Hell below, but he wanted to. Didn’t mean he was going to.

A burning began in his chest, faint, but growing stronger. At first he dismissed it as his magic reacting to his emotions being all over the place, but when it refused to die down, he grew concerned. Shifting back so that he was straddling the branch got the pain out of his chest, but he could still feel the heat pressed against his skin. It took clawing at the chain that held the ring Cyrus had given him until the ring was no longer touching him to ease it.

“The hell?” Sorin whispered, brows furrowed. He rubbed absently at the spot where the ring had touched. A curse, maybe? No, Cy wasnt that petty. The ring was only for finding each others, and warning each other-

“Shit.” Sorin scrambled to his feet so fast he nearly fell off the branch. “ _Shit_.” He back peddled, whipping around. It was a long way down, but he shifted just enough to have claws to help keep from dropping the whole way down like a brick. He didn’t know what could have gone wrong so quickly (hadn’t it only been a couple hours at best? Time got funny in hell, but still.)

He wove the last few feet through the underbrush, smacking leaves out of his way and not caring about the noise he was making. The moment he reached the treeline he pushed through to earth, stepping through his cousin’s front door to find utter chaos.

The first thing he registered were two new angels, a broad shouldered man, and a short woman who was keeping a careful hold on a hound of heaven’s collar. The sheer weight of power, strong enough to rival that of an archangel’s, hit him like a truck a moment later. Unnatural and powerful, the surge of power was overwhelming, and old fear rose up in Sorin’s throat, icy and smothering. Cyrus stood with his hands raised, face tight and arms shaking, but Sorin’s appearance threw everything into motion.

The angels swung around to face him in sync. Darkness bloomed in the taller one’s hands, and that was enough for Sorin’s flames to spring to life. The ring burned hotter than ever, even though he had it outside his shirt now in an attempt to keep it from scorching his skin.

“Sorin, wait-” Cyrus said quickly, right as Fax’s little angel blurted out a name Sorin didn’t quite catch. They sounded panicked, the both of them, which only had Sorin’s flames jumping higher.

Cyrus twisted his wrist and jerked his hand back. The male angel staggered back a step, before whipping back around. His magic was already moving before anyone else could, and Cyrus’ hastily cobbled shield didn’t stand a chance. Neither did Sorin, who, a beat too late, lunged forward, only to to get slammed back, and out the door onto the lawn by the same darkness.

The ring finally went quiet as Sorin wheezed where he had landed in one of Fax’s gardens. The ring wasn’t cold. It was quiet. He scrambled up, yanking his magic to life again, even as the angel strode closer. He had to get back inside. It didn’t take more than a swat of a broad hand for the angel to knock Sorin’s flames away with a swathe of pitch black. The power in the air was near tangible, and Sorin began to wonder why he had ever been concerned about the little angel Fax chose to cling to. There was angelic power, and there was  _this_.

Sorin didn’t think he’d ever been this outclassed before, even with Fax as a child.

That didn’t stop Sorin from flinging his arms froward, blue-white fire following the motion as easy as breathing. Working with his magic was second nature, and it still wasn’t near enough. The angel kept advancing, arrogant enough to have his snowy wings spread now that they were outside. It was a weakness every demon knew to go for, and Sorin couldn’t get close enough to singe a single feather. Sorin snarled, but all attempts to get past ended with him buffeted back, away from the house, away from  _Cyrus_.

“Silas, stop-”

A glance told Sorin the little angel was in tears again, leaning against the doorway as if his legs wouldn’t hold him up without the support. Annoyance surged when then. Did the stupid angel do  _anything_  other than cry?

That unnatural darkness, hot and smothering, smacked him back. He hit the ground hard enough spots danced in his vision. The darkness didn’t let up this time, but when he clawed at his throat, he grabbed at nothing. There was no air anymore, just the taste of angel and magic as Sorin thrashed. Each second that passed felt like his skin would start shredding under the sheer weight of the magic pressing him into the ground. The moment he managed to summon his fire, the angel’s magic snuffed it right out again.

“Silas,  _stop_.”

Sorin didn’t even have the energy to be frustrated by Levant at this point. When the pressure of the larger angel’s darkness vanished, Sorin rolled on his side, eyes shut tight as he wheezed. Levant had saved him. Called off that fucking  _brute_  of an angel. It didn’t make sense, and he wasn’t comfortable with the bitter taste of guilt it left in his mouth.

By the time he pushed himself up, Lev was crouched nearby. The bruises and cuts were stark against his pale skin; something else to feel guilty about, Sorin thought. He would have expected the angel to be healed by now, and instead he could see the harsh angry letters behind the half-assed bandages across his chest.

Lev reached as if to help him up. Sorin’s pride rebelled and he snapped at the outstretched hand with teeth sharper than they should have been. Lev barely had time to flinch before the large angel - Silas? - was yanking Lev back, carrying him away inside and leaving Sorin to sit in the dirt, only just now realizing they’d all but destroyed this part of Fax’s garden.

He moved to stand, and the ring thumped softly against his chest. The ring. The  _ring_. He snagged it in his hand. It sat in his hand, nothing remarkable about it. Empty. He couldn’t feel Cyrus. Where their magic had nestled together, constantly aware of each other, there was echoing hollowness.

Sorin scrambled for the door, all but slamming into Fax, straining to get past when Fax pushed him back.

“Sor, slow down,” Fax pleaded.

Sorin barely heard him. There was nothing where Cyrus had been. Nothing but milling angels and a scorch mark on the floor. No more magic coming from the ring. Sorin’s chest seized as he remembered the god-awful destructive weight of the angel’s magic. Where the- Cy couldn’t be- and the last fucking thing Sorin had said-

“Sor, are you even listening to me?” Fax pressed, giving Sorin a little shove.

Sorin backed up, out of his reach. His shoulder hit the doorway, and he flinched. “Cy-” But no, there was no point in calling for the witch. No angel held back, not unless they were a freak like the angel Fax had picked up, and Cyrus had been so much more breakable than Sorin was.

“Sor, wait-”

As if Sorin had any reason to stay and listen. Not now. He opened a portal right then and there, even as he was twisting to slip out the door.

Even as he fled, unable to get Cyrus’ last horrified look out of his thoughts, guilt chased him.

What the hell had he done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all didn't think the drama was over did u? I have a healthy love of drama. So much drama. I promise the next part has more cuddles and less struggles though. :D <3


	17. Part Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything gets sorted out. Sort of.  
> or  
> We interrupt our drama to provide Lev with a much needed emotional support hound.  
> or  
> It's a little awkward when your ex is an angel and your boyfriend is a demon, and you boyfriend's cousin tried to kill you yesterday.

Everything had moved quickly, and Lev was still reeling from it all. At this point Lev just wanted a break. Maybe that was why he wasn’t protesting how Fax and Silas had squished him between them both. Not that he really wanted to complain. Silas kept rubbing Lev’s arm, and if there was lingering tension between Silas and Fax, they weren’t saying anything about it. Which was nice, because Lev kept bursting into tears every time he thought he’d calmed down.

Deryn, the angel with the hound, had said something about trauma. Silas and Fax had been kind enough to not point out Lev cried over everything. And they certainly were being patient now, especially with how Lev kept switching between who he leaned against. He couldn’t help it. He needed Fax, but, hell below, he’d missed Silas. He hadn’t realized how much, and something eased inside of him now that both of them were here.

Fax shifted, just enough that Lev pressed his face into the demons shoulder. Sorin taking off before they could explain the witch was just fine was undoubtedly eating at Fax. The utter look of heartbreak- Lev knew intimately that gut wrenching feeling of losing a loved one, many times over, and no one deserved it. They were lucky Deryn was here to take care of everything; she’d had Fax pull the witch to the bedroom so she could heal what damage Silas had caused when Silas had snapped. Lev hadn’t seen much, other than a dark bruise already forming across Cyrus’ collarbone, and likely further down under his shirt. Everything had moved so very quickly and with so much going on, no one really understood what had happened until it was all over and the door had slammed behind Sorin.

Deryn reappeared in the doorway, frowning at them. “He should be fine. The witch. There’s no lasting damage, other than exhaustion, but I can’t do anything about that. Make sure he sleeps this off, and don’t let him get up before he’s ready.” The hound settled obediently at her side, ears pricked, though it leaned into her touch when she ran a hand absently over it’s head. “Why aren’t you healing, Levant?”

For such a small angel, Deryn had a commanding presence when she was busy like this, and Lev found himself floundering for an answer. Fax squeezed his hand, and admitted, “No magic left for healing. And it’s not one of my gifts. Cyrus, the witch, was too low on magic to anything either.”

Silas opened his mouth, and Lev could see the anger sparking, but Deryn cut in. “And you’re out of power too, then, Silas?”

Silas snapped his mouth shut, ducking his chin. Cold wound itself up Lev’s arm where Silas was still rubbing it, chasing down each and every ache and bruise and slash. Lev couldn’t help the shuddering sigh of relief. That was better.

Fax pressed his nose to Lev’s ear, a constant pressure that comforted Lev, at least until Silas reached to pull back the bandages that Fax had never finished reapplying to Lev’s chest. He pressed his fingers to the letters still there.

“You never explained what happened,” Silas said, brows furrowing and voice rough. Even Fax recognized the rising anger in his voice.

“You never gave us a chance,” Lev pointed out. He tried for a laugh when Silas flicked him a look, but it came out weak. “Well you didn’t, Silas.” His heartbeat quickened, though, and he squeezed Fax’s hand hard.

“My cousin was angry with me. He waited until I was gone to-” Fax’s voice wobbled, and he buried his face in Lev’s shoulder rather than go on.

“Wasn’t your fault,” Lev promised, and then winced at Silas’ expression. “It wasn’t, Silas. He can’t be at my side constantly, and… It’s no different than the angels in heaven. You weren’t able to stop every one then, either. And that wasn’t any more your fault than this is Fax’s.” He took an unsteady breath as Silas traced over the quickly fading letters. There had been enough crying today, and he refused to start up again, even if he could hear the taunts in the back of his head still. Even… even if-

“Why ‘please’?” Silas asked. Anger still sparked in his eyes, bright and violent. Despite himself Lev shivered, and looked away. Fax hadn’t asked, and Lev didn’t want to think about it, but he found himself answering anyway.

“I wouldn’t quit begging them to stop.” Something cold writhed in his gut. Tears slid down his cheeks as he lost the battle to keep his breaths even. “I… I didn’t mean to, I couldn’t help it, I just wanted it to stop.”

Silas stilled completely, hand still pressed to Lev’s chest. The chill of healing had faltered and stopped by now. It was easier to squeeze his eyes shut than to meet Silas’ outraged gaze. He clung to Fax’s hand, trying to calm down. Hadn’t he cried enough today? More than enough. It was fine. Everything was fine.

A solid weight pressing against him startled him into looking down. The hound nuzzled his stomach, cold nose snuffling until Lav had to laugh, even if it sounded half hysterical.

“He’s for you,” Silas said, voice stiff. Lev didn’t have to look up to recognize when he was trying to keep his temper in check. For once it seemed to be working. “The hound. He’s why I came down. Why Deryn is here.”

The hound strained forward, managing to lift himself up far enough that he could get in Lev’s face. Lev’s cheek went cold the moment the dog licked it, and in the wake of the chill, he could tell the bruising was fading quickly as the ache vanished as well. “You got me a hound?”

Silas huffed. “Well I didn’t realize I’d come down here to find your house full of cats.”

“Auxilio should be good with the cats,” Deryn promised as she settled in the armchair across the room. “He’d been well trained.”

“Of course he has been; he was trained by you,” Silas said, mouth curving up.

“I have a girlfriend. Flattery will get you nowhere,” Deryn sniffed.

“Might get me some of your cookies,” Silas shot back. Deryn blushed, and looked away.

Lev didn’t get a chance to say anything. The hound - Auxilio? - nestled close, muzzle resting in the crook of his neck opposite of Fax. It was a bit cramped; Auxilio had a paw on either side of Lev, and all but pushed Silas out of his way.

“I suppose we won’t have to worry about the bond taking,” Deryn murmured, pleased.

“The bond taking?” Fax repeated, before tensing. Lev squeezed his hand yet again, a silent reassurance. He understood Fax’s fear, even if Lev was sure now that Silas and Deryn wouldn’t do anything to hurt Fax.

“Hounds of heaven are actually quite similar to hellhounds,” Deryn said, perking up. “I looked into it when I was learning how to train the hounds. They’re a little more selective with who they bond, at least in the sense that they keep the number they bond with rather low, only one or two at best usually, but the bond is deep, just like a hellhound and their partner. Usually I would have the angel the hound is going to be working with help me train, to ensure that the bond took, and so they would know beforehand how the hound functioned. They have personalities too, and they’re quite intelligent. Smarter than some angels I know, even.”

Lev cautiously brushed a hand over the hound’s head. Auxilio whined, and licked at his jaw. A trail of cold tingled briefly, just like before. Still not fully healed then, Lev guessed.

“He’s taking my job,” Silas complained, scooting over to give Auxilio more room.

“Doesn’t count as taking your job anymore if you stopped healing in the first place,” Deryn retorted primly. Silas had the good grace to look ashamed at that. Fax’s soft, confused sound, Deryn immediately launched into another cheerful ramble: “Hounds of heaven have healing abilities. Not quite as strong as an angel’s, but enough for those they’re bonded to. Where an angel could heal several people, so long as the wounds weren’t near fatal on each one, a hound could probably only handle one, or maybe two, if you pushed them very far.”

Fax cleared his throat, glancing at the hound, who was now nosing his way down Lev’s ribs. “Hellhounds don’t…”

“Oh, I’m aware. Their gifts lie in the slowing of the healing process, right?” Deren smiled. “I told you. I studied them as well. I like to know how to help all creatures who may need me.”

“You’d care for a hellhound?” Fax asked in surprise.

Deryn inclined her head. “Hellhounds have no choice in what they’re born as.” She pursed her lips, but held Fax’s gaze. Lev smiled at that, and then squeaked as Auxilio jammed his muzzle in Lev’s armpit.

The silence stretched, long enough that Silas started to fidget. Lev buried his face in Auxilio’s ruff, surprised at how much he’d missed this. Cats were nice, but that was Fax’s animal, not Lev’s. One of his fondest memories was spending an entire afternoon with Raziel’s hound of heaven after she’d had a litter of pups.

“He’s for the anxiety,” Silas blurted. Lev lifted his head, blinking owlishly at Silas. Silas waved a hand, darkness following the movement. “Auxilio. Deryn trains her hounds to help angels who struggle, rather than just to attack and guard. I thought he’d be able to help with the anxiety.” He paused, and then admitted, “I thought you were alone down here.”

“Did they… did they not tell you why I lost my wings?” Lev asked softly.

“Dad said it was because of you screwing around with a demon, but that didn’t… I didn’t believe him. It didn’t sound like you.” Silas paused, and them smiled weakly. “Obviously I was wrong.”

Fax gave a small cough, but Lev just smiled back, even if his expression was a little sad. “Fax is good for me. He’s not like that.” As if in answer, Fax pressed a kiss to the back of Lev’s hand. “If… if I hadn’t gotten caught… well, even then, if the mess with his cousin hadn’t happened I’d… I feel safe with him.”

“Right. Safe.” Silas snorted, face tightening again.

“That’s not fair,” Lev protested quietly. “To me, or Fax.”

Silas grimaced, but the guilt was genuine. “I can’t- he’s a demon, Lev, and you know what happened to my mother-”

“I lost both parents to demons, in front of me. If I can trust him, so can you.” When Lev pushed at Auxilio, the hound settled obediently at his feet, tail thumping faintly. Lev reached over with his free hand to link fingers with Silas as well. “If not him, then trust me. I’m making the right decision, staying with Fax. He calms me and he loves me, and I love him too.”

“Even-”

“Even after everything, Silas. My mistakes, his, it doesn’t change anything.”

Silas watched him for a moment, for once with an unreadable expression, while his thumb brushed over the back of Lev’s hand. Eventually, he said, “Okay. I trust you. I trust your judgment.” He swallowed, and then offered with a small laugh. “Not that you need it. It’s your decision, Lev. Your heart to give away, and I gave up my right to beg for you years ago.”

Lev flushed. “Silas-”

“No. It’s okay. Really. I’m happy. You’re…” Silas grimaced. “I’ll take your word that you’re happy in between being tortured.”

Lev gave a small laugh, and leaned into Silas briefly. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, little guy.” Silas seemed about to say something else, but in the end fell silent again and played quietly with Lev’s hand instead.

Deryn cleared her throat. “As fun as it is to watch you two fumble through this, we  _are_  running out of time, Silas.”

Silas swore under his breath. “We didn’t exactly tell anyone we were leaving,” he admitted as he stood. Lev followed suit, though Fax stayed on the couch, still as stone and wariness still in his expression. “I’ll come back some time. Soon. Okay?”

“I’d like that,” Lev said softly. He offered Deryn a shy smile. “Thank you. For Auxilio.”

Deryn smiled back and handed him a small notebook. “Everything you would need to know about Auxilio, and then some. My number is in the back, if you need me. Even if you don’t, I’ll drop by in a few months and make sure he’s reached his full growth.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it briefly. “And Levant? You’re welcome. You look like he could help you a lot.” she started for the door, but paused at the last second to add, “He’ll respond to Lio, if you need.”

“Thank you,” Lev said again, looking down at the notebook, and then back ar Deryn. Auxilio, who had gotten up to follow, nuzzled at his hand until he started petting the hound absently. Deryn smiled, before slipping out the front door.

Silas lingered, mouth tipping down. “I  _will_  come back. That’s a promise.” He puffed out a breath, fiddling with a patch of darkness as he regarded Lev. “I wish I had more time.”

“It’s okay,” Lev assured. “I’ll be here when you come back.”

“I’m sure you will, Lev. You’re tougher than you think.” Silas ducked down and pressed a kiss to the top of Lev’s head. “Take care of yourself, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Lev smiled a bit, and watched Silas go before circling back to the couch. He curled up next to Fax, relieved that it didn’t ache anymore when Fax held him close. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Fax asked, his arm tightening around Lev.

“Silas.”

Fax have a breathless laugh. “That was… intense I’ll admit.” He kissed Lev softly the moment Lev looked up. “Things worked out.”

“And I got a dog,” Lev said happily. Lio seemed to know he was being talked about, because he chose that moment to hop up on the couch and settle with his head on Lev’s hip.

“I had no idea you were a dog person. Why didn’t you say anything?” Fax asked. He trailed his fingers down Lev’s arm while Lev tried to think of a way to explain.

“It never came up,” Lev said eventually. “And you were happy with your cats. And I like them, too.”

Fax laughed softly. “Well, hopefully, your friend is right, and they’ll get along with him just fine.”

“I’m sure they will,” Lev promised. He waited a beat, and then said, softer, “Do you think it’s over now? I can’t imagine anything else happening.”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Fax kissed him again. “We just need to wait for Cyrus to be able to get up and moving, and then… I guess we’ll see if he can’t fix what happened between him and Sor. Maybe everything will settle then.”

“I hope so,” Lev replied. “I’m tired.”

“Me too, Lev. Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, okay, so the Cyrus thing was a bit of a low blow. To be fair, it was always in the plan. That was more for Sorin's benefit than to hurt y'all, though. Thank you so much for your comments so far. We're getting close to the end here. Only one more story arc to go: Sorin's. Hopefully it won't take more than four parts, but there's no telling.


	18. Part Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *finger guns* two am talks with a dog, followed by two am talks with a witch. Just your average night in the Lev n Fax household.

The house was finally quiet. Fax, despite his best efforts, had crashed on the couch. Lev had stayed curled up at his side for hours, head resting on Fax’s side so he could feel every breath. One hand had clung to Fax’s shirt as if he’d vanish if Lev didn’t, and the other stayed on the hound that had dozed at Lev’s other side.

In the end, Lev had gotten restless. He was tired, so very tired, but he didn’t want to sleep. Too much went on in this house, even if it was quiet now, and he was so very scared of waking up to find chaos all over again. Instead of letting himself drift off he nudged Lio off of him and went to root around in the kitchen. Food helped as much as sleep, and maybe this would dull the edge of his exhaustion.

Two sandwiches later, Lev settled himself on the counter, banana in hand. At some point Lio had stepped away from his side, and Lev watched in amusement as the hound greeted each cat that circled him warily.

“That’ll take you all night,” Lev said around a bite. Lio perked his ears, carefully winding around the cats to come nudge at Lev’s knee. Lev spoke again without thinking: “Yeah. I’m okay.” He got another nudge for that, and Lev snorted. “You hungry too?”

A hopeful wag of Lio’s grey and silver tail gave him his answer.

“You are going to be as spoiled as any one of these cats. And then Deryn is gonna come for me.” Lev slid off the counter and went to pull out the chicken he knew they had somewhere in the fridge. Lio crowded behind him, nosing against his hip when he didn’t move fast enough. “Hey. Hey! Calm down, you. I’m getting it.”

Lio nudged his elbow, before retreating. When he turned back around Lio was waiting with ears perked and tail very narrowly missing a cat that padded by. Lio sniffed after the cat, and then returned his attention unerringly to Lev. Lav had to laugh, though he did toss a chunk of chicken at the hound. Lio snapped it out of the air with ease. Lev grinned, couldn’t help it, not when Lio immediately looked at him, tail waving expectantly.

This time Lev settled on the floor, back pressed to the cabinets. Lio perked up, but waited. “Yeah, come on,” Lev said. It was probably far from the proper command, but Lio all but threw himself in Lev’s lap anyway. Lev let him have the rest of the chicken and clean his hand without complaint. This time the hound’s tongue was warm. Nothing left to heal then. Good. It didn’t take much to start remembering how it’d felt to have a knife driven into that very hand. Nowhere near as bad as when his wings had-

No. Lev refused to think about that. He couldn’t. Tears were already filling his eyes. His spine locked, each breath becoming a rasp.

As if picking up on where his thoughts had gone, Lio nuzzled under his chin. When that didn’t get a response quick enough, Lio leaned against him, a solid weight that was equal parts smothering and comforting. Lev wrapped his arms around the hound and buried his face in Auxilio’s fur.

Lev wasn’t sure how long he sat there, focused on evening out his breaths and feeling the soft fur beneath his fingers. Lio waited patiently. Eventually he heard someone clear their throat. When he looked up, the witch was standing in the doorway. Well, more leaning, but it seemed more an aesthetic choice than necessity. Probably.

“I’m sorry,” Lev said without thinking. “Did we wake you?”

“No. No. I-” Cyrus shook his head. “I woke on my own. I wanted to know what time it is.”

Lev glanced at the darkness outside the window, and then at the stove clock that proudly announced the time in neon green. “It’s past two. You should probably go back to bed. Der said you needed rest, or your magic will take ages to replenish.”

“My magic is fine.” Cyrus straightened. “I need to find Sorin.”

“It can wait.” When Cyrus shot him a look, Lev flinched. “Can’t it? Just for a few more hours. You should be  _resting_.”

“There is no waiting with Sorin. Thank you, for your hospitality, but I really need to go.”

“Please, don’t. At least wait for Fax to wake up. He could help-”

Cyrus cut him off with a wave of his hand. “After how much worse Fairfax made this already, I really think it’d be a bad idea.”

Lio pressed against Lev when he tensed. “That’s not fair,” Lev said, even when he wanted nothing more than to lean back from Cyrus’ glare. “Well it isn’t,” he added faintly. “Fax had no idea. You can’t just blame him and call it a day.”

Cyrus blinked. There was a beat of hesitation, and then he ducked his head a bit. “I’m… I’m sorry. I know Sorin is to blame. I shouldn’t… you’re right, that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all. But Fax still wouldn’t help in any way, shape, or form. I am going, and I’m not bringing the demon.” Before Lev could think of a better argument, Cyrus added, “If it was Fax, wouldn’t you do the same?”

Oh, that was unfair. It was entirely unfair. They both knew the answer to that. “I can’t let you go alone,” he tried weakly.

“I mean no offense, but what exactly would you do to help?” Cyrus pushed off from the doorway.

Lev pressed forward anyway, with more sharpness than he felt. “And what could you do, if he lashes out? Your magic won’t be back fully.”

Cyrus’ fingers twitched, the only physical sign of his frustration. “I can’t stand here all night arguing with you. I have to go. I won’t let Sorin stew any longer than he has to.”

“We can take Fax’s car. Just don’t go alone. Let me come with you. Just in case something goes wrong. I can heal.”

“Nothing is going to go wrong!”

Lev winced, leaning away from Cyrus. He couldn’t help it; Cyrus’ sharp tone had taken him by surprise.

Cyrus rubbed his face. “I’m sorry. I’m… look, Sorin won’t hurt me. Okay? He’d never hurt me. I’ll be fine.”

“Then there’s no reason for me not to come. I’ll even wait in the car, if you need me to. Please. I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me jack shit. I should have stopped him sooner.” Cyrus tossed his hands in the air. “Fine. Fine. You can come with.”

Lev nodded, hesitant. Lio nudged his hand, nipped his fingers when Lev didn’t move.

“It’s several hours drive, so if you need to take care of anything, do it now.” Cyrus turned and walked away, clearly trying not to seem as stiff as he felt.

Lev swallowed, before moving to root around in the fridge one last time. He threw together several more sandwiches, and as an afterthought a couple of oranges, too. He scribbled a quick note for Fax, and prayed that would be enough. The keys were hanging up by the front door, so he snagged those as he went.

Fax hadn’t stirred, as he saw when he glanced back. He could text Fax later, if Cyrus let him borrow his phone. Lio followed at his side, and if Cyrus shot the hound a look, Lev did his best to ignore it. Instead, after settling Auxilio in the backseat, he settled himself in the front, holding his pile of food in his lap so he could toss the keys to Cyrus.

“For my magic. And yours, if you want,” Lev offered.

“Not a big fan of ham,” Cyrus muttered, but took one of the sandwiches anyway. He set it on the dash, and started the car.

Lev really hoped he knew what he was doing, because Lev certainly didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super excited about Part Thirteen. You get to meet Lev's cousin, who I haven't had the chance to introduce yet. Distant cousin, a major-minor character in my novels (this series takes place in the same universe, so there were some crossovers, like Angela/Fabius, and Silas)


	19. Part Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not as bad as meeting the inlaws, but I'm sure Fax would have appreciated knowing that Lev's cousin was so intense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Amara, and she demanded to be allowed in the story. I did not expect this. It's fine, though. She didn't change my plans too much.

Fax woke at dawn, as he usually did, stirring only as the sun began to peek through the window. The spot beside him, where Lev should have been, was cold, though a cat had settled in his lap. He ran a hand down the cats back, smiling as it grumbled at him for waking it. He would have gladly sat there, doing nothing but soothing the cat that he’d disturbed, but after losing Lev once…

He heaved himself to his feet, dislodging a second cat from his shoulder as well as the one on his lap. At least the shoulder cat was graceful at being moved. He padded into the kitchen, already relaxing at the familiar sounds of someone making coffee.

He wasn’t expecting a stranger in his kitchen. The woman was currently bent double, digging through his fridge. “You don’t happen to have anything to drink, do you?”

“There’s some milk,” Fax said automatically.

She turned around, frowning as she straightened, plastic container of chicken in hand. “That’s not-” After giving him a once-over, she sighed. “Nevermind.”

Fax blinked at her. He watched her walk over to the counter, dark hair swinging with every step, and haul herself up on the counter. Something in him wanted to protest that was  _Lev’s_ spot, and then he realized how ridiculous that was. And then he remembered that he’d thought Lev was here, and he wasn’t, so where was Lev?

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you don’t know where Lev is,” the woman said, opening the container and starting to help herself. Well, there went lunch, Fax thought. She just watched him, a smirk on her face and far too much calculation in her eyes. “He left a note on the table.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but… who are you?” He edged over to the table, hesitating to take his eyes off of her long enough to read the note.

“Lev’s cousin. You can call me Amara.” She stuffed another piece of chicken in her mouth, and gestured at the note. “Go on. I already read it.”

“I didn’t know Lev had any family left,” Fax said, still unsure. “Are you-”

“Wow. First off, kinda rude.” She wrinkled her nose. When he stuttered out an apology, face heating up, she just popped another piece of chicken in her mouth. “Just read the damn note.”

Fax reached for the note, only to pause. “I’m sorry, I really have to ask, how did you get in my house?”

“I came down the chimney. Read the goddamn note, before I lose patience.”

This woman was absolutely nothing like Lev. For one thing, he didn’t think Lev could even glare, much less make him want to shrink back into a different dimension. He decided he’d rather look at the note than keep holding her fierce blue stare, and ducked his head.

Not even halfway through the note Fax looked up. “He went where?”

Amara shrugged. “I was hoping you could tell me. Judging by the look on your face it’s not good.”

“I don’t understand.” Fax looked back down at the note. “Lev doesn’t do this sort of thing. Sorin terrifies him.” With good reason. “I don’t- why are  _you_ here?”

She gave a slow smile. “Silas, the tall, angry angel? He was a bit concerned about how my cousin was being treated.” Somehow she made even wiggling her fingers a threatening gesture. “You’re not doing a good job of convincing me that he’s safe and sound here with you.”

Fax swallowed. “I-”

“I can see Lev didn’t pick you for your eloquence. Jesus. You look like I’m gonna gut you in your own kitchen. Breathe, kid.” She slid down off the counter, her abrupt change in mood taking him by surprise.

“I don’t … understand.”

“I get the feeling you say that a lot.” She wrinkled her nose, before tossing the empty container in the sink. “Silas is a bit touchy about demons. He trusts me to be a good judge of character, though, for some reason or another.” Her next movement was so fast Fax flinched back, not expecting her to be in his space in a single heartbeat, blue-grey eyes glinting. There was only two inches between their heights, even if she was the taller one, but it felt like a foot as she peered down at him. “Tell me, Fairfax, what are your intentions with my cousin?”

Fax leaned away despite the table digging into his back. “I- I-”

“Kidding. I swear, you don’t have a single antagonistic bone in your body. Most demons I know would have at least blustered. I expected Lev to settle on the big, protective types. Still, you’re kinda cute. In a… soft sort of way.” She patted his cheek, and then spun away.

“What are you?” He croaked. She didn’t feel angelic, or demonic, but there was something off enough that she couldn’t be human. The confusion wasn’t helping him any.

“I’m a mess. What do you want, my pedigree?”

“ _Who_ are you?” He tried.

“Amara. I told you that. Are you always this slow or…” She arched her brows. “Am I really that terrifying?”

Fax gaped at her. There really wasn’t anything left to say. This was all rather ridiculous. They both pasued to watch Nee pad into the kitchen, nosing at Amara’s legs as if expecting her to feed him. Really, though, what else was Fax supposed to do?

“So, ah, what’s with all the cats?” She asked, continuing to watch as Nee braced his forepaws on her leg and mewed up at her. “You seem to have a lot.”

“I just… like them,” Fax said weakly. “And they seem to like me.”

“Clearly,” Amara muttered. “I’m assuming that you don’t know where they went.”

“I- I’m sorry?” Fax asked helplessly. He really couldn’t keep up with her rapidfire changes of subject and attitude. It left his head spinning when he tried.

“Your boyfriend. And the witch. Who, by the way, needs to pick better boyfriends himself. Angela told me what happened, too, you know. I had to listen to  _her_ bitching, and Silas’ and honestly, it gets old. Never thought Ange would know someone that an angel was attached to, though. Small world, I guess.”

“I-I’m sorry?” Fax tried again. Lost didn’t begin to cover what he was right now.

Amara squinted at him. “Huh. Maybe you know Fabi, not Ange. Angela is Fabius’ witch. You know Fabi, don’t you?” When Fax gave a hesitant nod, Amara flapped a hand dismissively. Fax found himself oddly reminded of Lev, though he was used to that very handwave being used in entirely different situations.

“I know Fabius,” he confirmed, rather pointlessly. Amara’s lips quirked up in a small smile.

“Fabi and Angela helped the other witch. Cy… Cypress? Cyril? Something.” She shrugged. “They helped him help you.”

“Cyrus,” Fax supplied, albeit belatedly.

“Hmm?”

“His name is Cyrus.” Fax shuffled, ducking his head when she frowned at him. “The witch. His name is Cyrus.”

“Mm, yes, well, whatever his name is, he’s an idiot. Even if he did save your skin, if Angela is to be believed.” She paused. “You wouldn’t happen to know where he’s headed, would you?”

“No. I… I don’t know where Sorin stays. I… I could go home, ask my.. My family?”

She snorted, crossing her arms. “Don’t ask my permission, demon. I’m not your keeper.”

“I, uh,” He started to say. It felt rude, and so for once he snapped his mouth shut, at least until Amara made a sort of ‘go on’ gesture that felt more like a ‘fucking spit it out already’ gesture than anything else. “I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“Then take me with you,” she said with a shrug. At his expression, she tipped her head back and laughed. “This won’t be the first time I’ve been in hell. It’d just be my first time escorted.”

“How-?” Fax decided that wasn’t worth talking in circles about, and lifted a hand to rub his face. He didn’t even try to pretend that he wasn’t shaking a litte. “I can’t take you with me to hell. I don’t know you. I don’t know if I can trust you. I-”

“Oh, you shouldn’t.” At his confused look - he was quite resigned to his perpetual confusion this morning - she snorted. “You shouldn’t trust anyone, least of all someone you just met.” She jerked her chin up. “I could have killed you in your sleep, you know. You didn’t have a damn clue I was here. No survival instincts, none.”

“I- I’m sorry?”

She threw her hands in the air. “My God, you really are Lev’s perfect match, aren’t you?” Fax wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but she was already going on. “Think of this, then. You don’t trust me, and you shouldn’t, but the longer we stand here, talking in circles, the longer you leave Levant on his own. I’m not asking you to trust me, because I’d like to think you have at least a few brain cells, but do you really want to argue about this for the next six hours? Cus I can.”

Fax gave a hesitant shake of his head.

“There you go. Let’s get going. Grab the note. I kinda wanna shove it down Lev’s throat for making me worry like this.” Fax must have made some sort of horrified noise, because she paused. “I’m kidding. That was a joke. Your kind has those, don’t they? Don’t answer that. You depress me, Fax. No fun at all.”

And so Fax found himself dragged from his house, wondering how the hell he could still be surprised by anything anymore.


	20. Part Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lev and Cyrus try to talk some sense into Sorin.

Lev jerked awake. The dream was already fading, but he swore he could still feel demanding hands tugging at him as he panted. Demanding, and angry, and asking for things he couldn’t give. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, hadn’t meant to dream, hadn’t meant to wake up on the verge of tears,  _again_. Always crying. It was a wonder people still stuck around, what with all the crying he did. He rubbed at his eyes and shifted in his seat. Thankfully, Cyrus didn’t say a word. Not one.

The sun was rising by now. It had to have been a few hours since he dozed off. He could feel his magic, slowly pooling in an empty place behind his ribs, belatedly looking for any wounds to heal. Not much power, but some. Enough to draw comfort from.

Rather than dwell on why he was so low on magic, so exposed without his shadows, he plucked restlessly at his seatbelt. He hated the way it dug into his skin. Nothing could have made him pause to find a shirt he would have been comfortable wearing, though, so here he was. He rubbed at his face again, only to find a tissue held in his direction. It took Lev a moment to take it from the Cyrus. It took him another to manage to choke out, “Thanks.” Damn his tears, still lurking.

“Do you want to talk?” Cyrus offered. The words were hesitant, unsure. Cyrus did not owe Lev anything, but he still offered, even if it was clearly uncomfortable for him. Lev gave a soft no and then blew his nose. And  _then_  worried if maybe that’d been too loud, because Cyrus turned on the radio, and spent a solid minute fiddling with the stations. Lev turned his attention to the window rather than deal with the mess he was making of this. If he hadn’t been afraid of the nightmares, the hands, the fear, he might have tried to doze off again.

“We should be there soon,” Cyrus said. Lev wanted so badly to reassure him that he didn’t have to force a conversation, but couldn’t think of how to do so without being being rude, and maybe pissing Cyrus off (logically he knew he wouldn’t, but still, the what if lingered.) In the end he just nodded.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, the only distraction being Auxilio in the back seat. Lev pulled apart one of the remaining sandwiches and fed him the meat. Deryn was definitely going to have his head for this. Somehow he figured spoiling the hound was not in the little handbook she’d given him. Cy shot him a look, brows furrowed as he reached up. He brushed his fingers against his collarbone, as if expecting something to be there, and his expression pinched when he found nothing. Finally, he said “It might be better if you stay in the car.”

Lev shook his head, once. “I said I’d come with you,” he said. And he’d meant it. Sorin scared the hell out of him (heaven? Scared the heaven out of him?) but he owed Cyrus, at least for keeping Fax alive for him, no matter how much the prospect had him trembling.

Lio leaned forward, huffing against Lev’s ear before settling his chin on Lev’s shoulder. Cyrus’ nose wrinkled. “I don’t think he’ll take well to an angel. You have no idea how much your kind frightens him.”

Before he could stop himself Lev blurted, “Fear didn’t stop him from trying to carve me apart.”

Cyrus paused. “No,” he conceded, “But it probably helped him make the decision to go that far.”

Lev flinched, hard enough that Lio let out a low growl. There was a beat of silence, at least until Auxilio’s hackles flattened, and then Lev said quietly, “I’m coming with you.”

“Then the dog stays in the car. Sorin isn’t the biggest fan.” Cyrus heaved himself out of the car, and shut the door behind him. Lev handt expected him to agree so quickly. Cyrus was already halfway to the house before Lev could unbuckle and stumble after him. Cyrus shot him a glance, mouth tipped down, before opening the door, and calling quietly for Sorin. There was a beat of silence, heavy and intimidating, and then Sorin appeared from another room, already speaking.

“Couldn’t your kind leave well enough alone?” He didn’t even spare a glance at Cyrus, instead fixing his glare on Lev, who had peeked around Cyrus. The sheer aggression in the single look had Lev rocking back a step automatically. “Couldn’t you leave me to grieve in peace?”

Cyrus slid forward a step, hands held out placatingly. “Rin, I’m fine. See?” He stilled when blue white flames sprang to life at Sorin’s fingertips. “Sorin-”

“You must think I’m an idiot,” Sorin said hotly, “To think I’m going to fall for this. You think I don’t know some angels can shapeshift.” The way his shoulders had gone rigid didn’t instill confidence in Lev.

“I’m not an angel,” Cyrus protested. He kept his hands up, fingers wide, a smuch an action of soothing the agitated demon as it was a promise he wasn’t doing any magic. “Use your nose, if you won’t use your sense. Did you even see my body? My heart didn’t even stop, Sorin. I’m right here.”

“A witch then. Spells. I  _felt_  him die.” Sorin brandished something that had been hanging around his neck with the hand not on fire. A ring, Lev realized, which didn’t help his confusion.

Whatever it was, it seemed to be enough to make Cyrus go still completely. “Sorin, I-”

“Get out,” Sorin interrupted. Even Lev could hear the tremble in his voice. When neither of them moved, his flames grew brighter. “I don’t know what the hell you think this is going to do except piss me the hell off, because you certainly succeeded in that.”

Sorin moved, and at the same moment Cyrus jerked back, shoving Lev towards the door. An invisible force speared into what little there was of Lev’s magic. There was an unmistakable pull, a sucking sensation that had Lev stumbling against the doorway, right as Cyrus muttered something under his breath. And then he was walking forward and if Lev’s knees hadn’t been threatening to buckle he would have tried to pull Cyrus back, because hadn’t he come to  _help_?

Cyrus didn’t even flinch at the flames, though Lev gave a soft cry of warning. Cyrus just reached through the fire, untouched, somehow, and grabbed Sorin’s face gently, as if the flames didn’t exist. “I’m right here,” he promised. “I’m right here, Sorin.” For a moment the flames burned brighter, bright enough Lev tugged what was left of his shadows around him to ease the strain of watching. Not that he needed it much longer, because Sorin’s magic vanished abruptly as Cyrus pressed their foreheads together. “It’s me. I promise.”

The low, broken sound that came from Sorin startled Lev. The demon lurched forward, and Lev was convinced that he was attacking for a moment. Instead, Sorin slid his arms around Cyrus. Lev winced at how his fingers dug into Cyrus’ back (bruises were no doubt in Cyrus’ future) but Cyrus just held him close. After that there was plenty of stilted conversation, half choked replies, something about broken rings, but Lev felt like he was intruding. The safest course of action, now that he was sure the only thing Sorin was going to do was sob into Cyrus’ shoulder, was to retreat to the car.

Auxilio seemed happy to see him as Lev slid into the backseat with the hound. He wasted no time shoving his nose into Lev’s armpit. Lev pressed his face to the hound’s head. Lio huffed, shifting to poke a cold nose against Lev’s neck instead. Lev took his time soothing the hound, wondering why Silas picked such a demanding hound when Lev was already stressed. At least the hound distracted him. Unless that was the point.

Even as he thought that, Lio nudged him again until Lev brushed a hand down his back. Well, it worked, anyway. He didn’t mind Auxilio as a distraction. At least he was a cute distraction. Demanding, but cute.

Lio was the first to notice anything wrong, ears pricking without warning as he swung his head towards the house. Lev eased back out of the car with caution. As an afterthought he leaned the door so Lio couldn’t escape. It didn’t take long for the front door to slam open. Sorin was there, face splotchy, jaw set-

And then he was gone. Lev blinked. Gone, just like that, and Cyrus only a heartbeat too late to catch him as he stumbled through the doorway. Even from the car Level could see the loss and the hurt, the confusion. Without pausing to consider Lev crept across the yard, up the steps. Cyrus stared at him blankly.

Lev wasn’t stupid or tactless enough to ask if he was alright. Instead, when Cyrus sank down onto the steps, he settled beside the witch. Cyrus let out a tiny breath, head dropping low as he whispered, “Sorin said he couldn’t do this. And he left me.” The _‘again’_  hung heavy and unspoken in the air between them. Lev had to wonder why they’d driven out here, gone through all of that, and then ended up right where they’d started. He would never say that out loud, though, not while Cyrus went on to whisper, “He said he  _loved_  me. And he  _left_  me.”

And, well, what do you say to something like that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you yell too much, Sorin absolutely needs some space to sort through everything. *waves hand* he sucks at explaining why, but he does need it. Hopefully it actually does help instead of making him worse lmao.


	21. Part Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regrouping, mostly.

It was only another half hour before anyone showed up, but that was enough time for Lev to get a few more details from Cyrus. Not much, but enough to understand that Sorin had gotten it into his head that he was too angry to stay. Even if it seemed to have utterly crushed Cyrus, Lev understood. Not just Sorin’s decision, which seemed logical to him, but Cyrus’ hurt, too.

They were still sitting on the porch when the door behind them opened. Cyrus whipped around, and the hope on his face was painful to watch, especially as Fax walked over the threshold. Lev couldn’t help it as he immediately threw himself in Fax’s arms in the next heartbeat. Everything always seemed better when Fax held onto him.

“Jesus, Lev, if you two fall over and knock me on my ass I’m gonna be pissed,” a familiar voice grumbled.

Lev pulled away to blink at Amara over Fax’s shoulder. “Mar? What are you doing here?” Fax let go and edged out of the way. If Lev didn’t know better he’d say Fax was nervous. That observation didn’t stop him from saying, “And when did you get so  _tall_?”

Amara only laughed. “You sure you didn’t shrink?” She flicked his nose, before yanking him into a hug so tight he swore he heard his ribs creak. She held on a bit longer than she really needed to before letting go and ruffling his hair. “I hear you got yourself in a bit of trouble there. I can’t leave you alone for five seconds.”

“It’s been years, Amara,” he reminded her. She shrugged, an easy dismissal that Lev remembered usually aimed at older angels. He blinked. Oh. He did count as an older angel. Technically.

“Well, they can’t stop me from standing up for you now,” she declared airily. When that only got a small frown from him, she shrugged. “Well, they can’t. Not exactly big fans of the mutt who told them to go fuck themselves.”

“Amara,” was all Lev could manage, taking a step back.

She shrugged again. “They don’t seem to be able to kill me. I’ll be fine. I think the human in me makes me hardy.” A pause. “Or really fucking stubborn.”

“Amara Claire?” Cyrus asked from the steps. When Amara leveled him a look, he stood slowly. “ _The_ Amara Claire?”

“When people say that it’s either very good, or very bad,” Amara retorted dryly.

Cyrus pursed his lips. “Angela has talked about you.”

Amara laughed. “That still doesn’t clear things up, hon. Ange is thoroughly convinced of my stupidity, and just as sure in her knowledge that I could slit a man’s throat in a heartbeat.”

“Those both sound bad, Mar,” Lev said, as sternly as he could manage. She only laughed again.

“I missed that. You’re awful bossy for someone scared of his own shadow.” She flicked a look at Cyrus, and when Lev followed her gaze, he saw the edged look in the witch’s eyes. “Sorry, what was your question again?”

“Angela said you were good for hunting down demons and angels and the like,” Cyrus said. “What would it cost to get you to track someone down for me?”

Amara stepped up behind Lev to stare Cyrus down. Her tone was a touch too saccharine as she said, “Oh, sweetheart, I don’t think you want me tracking your boyfriend down. Don’t think Angela didn’t tell me exactly what he did to my cousin.”

Her fingers brushed against Lev’s back, and he flinched away. That was reaction enough that Cyrus’ dark gaze dropped, guilt flickering across his face. Lev was already turning back to Amara, though, shoulders tensing.

“What does he mean, hunting down angels?” he asked.

She met his stare with flat eyes, smile a touch too sharp to be friendly. “I have to pay the bills somehow, ‘cuz. Angels are easy prey, and there are plenty of demons that pay well for revenge.”

Lev was pretty sure he stopped breathing. “ _Amara_ ,” he croaked. “They will  _kill_ you.”

“Haven’t managed it yet,” she reminded him, tone oddly gentle. “I know what I’m doing, and I’ve been doing it since I ran away. They never expect a mutt like me to get the upper hand.”

“Amara,” he said, for the third time, now with exasperation mixed into the worry.

Another laugh burst from her, and she hooked an arm around his neck to tug him close. “Listen, if I don’t claim the mutt thing myself, I’m all but handing them something else to use against me. I’m not ashamed.”

“That wasn’t-” He huffed out a groan. “You can’t go around killing angels. Or demons. Or anyone else.”

“I can, and I do, and I get paid well for it. Or well enough. Don’t worry about me.” Her hug tightened briefly. “I’m more capable of taking care of myself than you are, anyway.”

Lev couldn’t argue with that, so instead he leaned into her. How many years had it been? Too many. The angels had separated them after one too many fledglings got their noses broken by an overzealous Amara, and even though phrases like tainted bloodlines had been tossed around, Lev and Amara both knew damn well it was hurt prides that had led to that particular injustice.

“I can’t believe you two are cousins,” Fax mumbled, startling Lev out of his thoughts.

Before Amara could puff up, or possibly tease Fax, Lev clarified, “Mar is a distant cousin. My grandmother is her great grandmother.” He hesitated. How much else was okay to explain?

Amara took over with a roll of her eyes. “Raziel had a kid with a human. Said human was my grandfather, who had a kid with an angel. My father would have been paired with another angel in an effort to breed out that pesky human blood as much as possible, but he was apparently as much a disappointment as I am, because my mom is mostly demon. Does that satisfy your curiosity enough, Fairfax?”

Lev elbowed her gently when he realized Fax had flushed. Again, that didn’t do much but make her laugh, but at least it turned her attention away from Fax.

“God, you’re different than I remember,” she finally said. “I guess years will do that. Still. Trippy.” She ruffled his hair, tugging fondly before puffing out a breath. “Well. I have things to do. People to murder. Booze to drink. Bad decisions to make.”

“Amara.”

She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t worry about me, and I won’t worry about you, deal?”

“That’s not how things work, Mar,” he protested. “Especially when you disappear for years and show up chattering about murder like you’re just discussing what you’re having for lunch.”

Sadness abruptly flickered in her expression. “Shit happens. I figured out how to survive. Maybe not in a way you approve, but it works for me.”

Lev snagged her hand. “It’s not about approval. You could get hurt. Bad.”

Amara twisted their hands so Lev could see the scarring across the top without letting go. “I got hurt when I lived with the angels. I get hurt doing what I do now. At least I’m doing what I want without getting condescended to now.”

Behind them, the others were very quiet. Lev tried to ignore them as he struggled to figure out what to say. In the end, he shook his head lightly. “I can’t just turn the worry off. Worrying is what I do.”

Something unreadable crossed her face as she murmured, “I know.” She seemed to force her smile to return, ruffling his hair as she did. “Chin up, kid. Everything will work out fine. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll give you my number and check up on you more often.”

“I don’t have a phone,” Lev admitted. “With everything going on it didn’t sound important at the time.”

“You can call my phone until we get him one,” Fax offered quietly. Both cousins glanced his way. To his credit he didn’t flinch, just blinked placidly. “I’ll take care of it.”

There was a beat of silence, and then, “Well! I really do need to be off, but I’ll be in touch.” She pulled a pen from her pocket, letting go of Lev’s hand to grab Fax’s. He flinched, but she just scribbled her number off the back, patted him on the cheek, and then flounced off, through the doorway. In the next blink she was gone.

“Should she be able to do that?” Fax murmured, grey eyes wide.

“She’s got more of our type of blood than human,” Lev pointed out. He peered at the number. “You okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” Fax tipped his chin up and kissed Lev’s forehead. “She’s, uh, eccentric, your cousin.”

“She’s good people,” Lev murmured back. He leaned into Fax’s embrace for a moment, let him run a hand through Lev’s hair, before he looked over at Cyrus. “You can come home with us. You shouldn’t… have to be alone.”

Lev expected Cyrus to protest, but the witch’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, okay,” Cyrus agreed tiredly.

“You can nap in the car,” Lev offered as he tugged Fax down the steps. “You’ve been up for hours.”

“Yeah, okay,” Cyrus repeated, turning back long enough to shut the door to the house. The second step creaked under his weight as he followed the others to the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting super close to the end. I'm honestly not sure how I'm going to handle the time lapse-skip-whatever yet but I do know Silas is going to show up one more time, because he and Lev need a serious conversation. That'll be fun.


	22. Part Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for discussion of past abuse, both physical and emotional.

Cyrus settled, somewhat stiffly, into their lives with little trouble. He didn’t seem to know what to do with all the cats, but he wasn’t upset by them either. Fax kept a close eye on him for a few days, before deeming him trustworthy. That might have been because he found Teacup asleep between Cyrus’ shoulder blades where the witch had fallen asleep at the kitchen table with a book trapped under his face. If one of Fax’s most skittish cats could trust Cyrus, then Fax could too.

Unlike Lev, Cyrus didn’t seem to be able to adjust to Fax’s schedule. Or he was unwilling to. Either way, because of his late nights, he tended to nap near midday, though he roused before dinner to eat with them. He was still up at dawn with Fax, no matter how late he stayed up, and after a few nights of hearing him walk around, muttering spells to himself or talking to Angela on the phone in a futile effort to track Sorin down, Fax learned to sleep through it.  

Days blended into weeks, and weeks became a month, and Fax found he didn’t find the witch’s presence a hiccup in his day anymore. Cyrus was there to have a cup of coffee before Fax coaxed Lev out of bed with their habitual warm milk and honey. While Fax puzzled over the morning crossword, Cyrus pored over the news, both on the tv and in the newspaper. They never spoke of it, but all three of them knew Cyrus was looking for signs of Sorin. Neither Lev or Fax had the heart to point out that Sorin had the good sense to stay off the news, local or otherwise. If Cyrus wanted to keep himself busy looking for signs that weren’t there, maybe that was better than him moping. It kept him busy, even if Fax could often taste the tang of magic in the air nowadays.

It was well over two months since Cyrus had moved in with them, and on this particular morning Cyrus ended up waking before Fax. He passed a cup of coffee over to Fax, already made the way Fax liked. Maybe that in itself was a sign that Cyrus was more settled than Fax had realized. Fax took a sip of his coffee, and asked his habitual morning question: “Y’hear anything?”

“No,” Cyrus said quietly. “Not a single lead.”

“Did you really expect anything to change between yesterday and today?” Fax asked gently.

“I have to hope, don’t I?"

"Knowing Sorin, you won’t find a single whisker unless he wants you to. You’re not the only witch he knows, and it’s not hard to cover his tracks with magic.”

“I have to try. You know I do.” Cyrus rubbed his face. His sip from his mug was more to stall than anything else, but they pretended the silence that stretched between them was comfortable. “Sorin doesn’t-”

“Don’t you try and tell me you really believe Sorin doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Fax said softly. “We both know Sorin. You better than me, maybe, but he knows what he’s doing. He’ll come back when he’s ready.”

“And if he’s never ready?” Cyrus retorted, before pulling up short. He shoved away from the counter, and headed for the living room. Before he got far, Lev shuffled in, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Cyrus paused, giving a muted, “Morning.”

“Morning,” Lev returned, padding right for Fax. Fax saw Cyrus’ face twist in a grimace at Lev’s bare back. At least the witch had the sense to do so only when Lev wasn’t looking. Lev didn’t need any more reminders about what had happened over the last year, even if it was just looks of pity. “What’s going on this morning?” He twisted in Fax’s arms to peer at Cyrus. “Any news?”

“Not a whisper,” Cyrus said shortly, and then winced. “Sorry, Lev.”

“It’s okay,” Lev replied, before burying his face in Fax’s neck, yawning again. “Sometimes I wish I liked coffee like you guys. I’m tired.”

Cyrus puffed out a laugh at Lev’s whiny tone. “Have you tried tea, maybe?” He paused. “If Fax has any besides sweet tea.”

“Don’t stereotype,” Fax scolded, and then paused. “I’ll get you some when I go to the store next time,” he offered. Lev nodded, pulling away.

“Don’t worry about it if it’s going to be an issue,” Lev reminded him. He ducked in the fridge to grab the milk. “I can always just sleep in longer.”

“Lazy bones,” Fax teased fondly, going on his toes to grab the honey from the top of the pantry and then a pot from the cabinet next to the stove. “Here, I got it. You go sit down and wake up some more.” Familiar banter, and familiar habits, as Fax got the milk on the stove going.

“I’m going to go finish reading the newspaper on the front porch,” Cyrus said, edging for the door. Lev followed, snagging the newspaper to hand him on the way out.

Once he was gone, Lev settled at the table. “Did you have to rile him up?” He finally asked. Fax blinked at him slowly. “I could hear you.”

“I was just being honest,” Fax tried, ducking down to scoop up a little black and white cat.

“Even I know that blunt honesty isn’t always the right policy,” Lev pointed out. Fax sniffed, and lifted the cat so it’s settled on his shoulder so he could pour the milk into a mug for Lev. “Come on, Fax.”

“I know, I know. I wasn’t thinking.” Fax settled down beside him, passing the mug over. “I didn’t mean to get him wound up.”

“You still managed to,” Lev pointed out, leaning into him. “He’ll calm down. Maybe it’ll be good for him. Eventually.” Lev craned his neck to steal a kiss.

They settled comfortably together, cat purring and batting at a stray lock of hair Lev could never get to stay flat. They might have sat there for quite a bit more if Cyrus hadn’t knocked on the doorframe.

“Angel outside wants to speak to you,” he said shortly. Lev couldn’t figure out the particularly pinched expression on Cyrus’ face until he heard a familiar step. He was on his feet before Silas stepped inside the kitchen, and Silas caught him easily when Lev jumped forward for a hug.

“Told you I’d come back to see you,” Silas said, all but lifting Lev off his feet.

Lev pulled back, a frown tugging at his lips. “You did,” he said, solemn without warning. “You also said you trusted me.”

Silas blinked, and then gave an awkward laugh. “I do, Lev. You know that. I trust you with my life.”

“You don’t trust me with mine, though.” Lev was well aware of Fax getting up quietly, and nudging Cyrus out of the kitchen, but Lev had eyes only for Silas. “You told me you trusted my judgement, and the next thing I know you were sending my cousin after me to intimidate Fax. How does that come across as trusting me, Silas?”

Silas had the grace to wince. “It doesn’t.”

“Amara, Silas? Really?” Lev pressed. “Fax isn’t like you. She freaked him out, Silas. Understandably, given the circumstances. You know she has an abrasive personality.”

“He’s a demon, Lev, I think he can take it,” Silas began.

“No! No. That’s not an excuse. It shouldn’t be your excuse.” The words burst from Lev so fiercely that even Lev looked a little taken aback. After a moment Lev let out a slow breath. Lio distracted them by nosing his way into the kitchen from the backyard, padding across the room to poke Lev’s stomach with his muzzle. “Silas. I told you Fax was okay. Trust me to make the right decision.”

“Your grandmother told me about Remiel,” Silas said abruptly. Lev froze as Silas went on. “And Vehuel. After what Fairfax did all those months ago, I felt like I had the right to be concerned. I didn’t know what those two-”

Lev shook his head to cut Silas off. He swallowed once, before saying, “She shouldn’t have said anything to you.” Lio shoved close, as if that would stop the shaking.

“Lev, I-”

“I didn’t tell you for a reason, Silas,” Lev said, pretending his voice didn’t tremble. “I knew you’d overreact. It’s been long enough. Respect my wishes and let that stay buried. I’ll get over it.”

“You’re clearly not,” Silas started, but Lev cut him of with a motion of his hand.

“I was fine until you brought it up. I didn’t ask for you to dredge all that up. I barely have nightmares anymore, and I-”

“Yeah, because you have new things to have nightmares about-”

“Silas!” Lev took a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “Please. You don’t have the right. You don’t have the right to come in here, upset me, and then use that as ‘proof’ that I’m not okay. It doesn’t work like that. I thought you were better than this.”

Silas didn’t seem to have a response to that, because he just stood there, watching Lev pet Lio when the hound got too pushy, and didn’t say a word.

“I’m not okay,” Lev admitted quietly. “I’m not. But I’m working on it. And Fax helps. You, showing up here, making me remember things I very much want to forget, doesn’t. You crossed a line, Silas, and I understand you’re trying to help, but you’re doing a really shitty job of it.”

“I’m sorry.” Silas reached for him, and then let his hand drop before Lev had the chance to decide if he wanted to allow it. “You’re right. I went too far.”

“You did,” Lev agreed, just watching him for now. Lio brushed against his knees, and then padded over to Silas to nudge the hand limp at Silas’ side. “I get you want to protect me, but this isn’t the way to do it. I didn’t ask for your help.” When Silas wouldn’t look at him, Lev braved the space between them to take the hand Lio kept nudging. “We’re not a couple anymore. More than that, I’m not who I was all those years ago. Things are different, and I’m different, and what I need now is different.”

“What you need isn’t me,” Silas finished tiredly.

“I need you. As a friend. Not a protector. I loved you for you. Still do, though not… not like that anymore.”

Silas squeezed his hand gently. “I shouldn’t have told Amara to check on you. And I shouldn’t have talked about those two. I sure as hell shouldn’t have ruined your morning.” He paused. “I’m sorry. I really am. Being worried about you isn’t an excuse-”

“I get it. I get why. And no, it doesn’t excuse, but… can we just drop it?” Lev let go, though he didn’t lean away when Silas ruffled his hair. “I only got up half an hour ago. I’m tired.”

Silas winced. “Yeah, I picked a bad time to sneak down, but I’ve been busy, and I slip out of heaven too often nowadays as is.”

“What for?”

Silas waved a hand. “Not important. Just restless. I’d visit more often if I wasn’t worried it’d drag attention to you.”

“You doing okay?” Lev asked quietly.

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine. Even managed to make a friend or two after you… after we… well, anyway, Barachiel kept shoving me at one of the Soldiers, and damn but Roy makes a good sparring partner.”

“Sparring partner? Or sparring partner?” Lev smiled, waggling his eyebrows for good measure. At least Silas had that. Lev had worried about him, though he hadn’t had much time to do so lately.

“Oh, lookit you, lil mister sass over here. You managed to say that without blushing once.” Silas flicked Lev’s nose lightly, a grin breaking through. That was enough Lev’s cheeks heated, but at least he’d gotten the tease out without flushing. “I really ought to get back, though.”

A protest died in Lev’s throat before it even really was born. “Yeah, okay,” he agreed quietly. Silas tugged him close, planting a kiss on the top of his head before hurrying out the back door. Likely to avoid running into Fax, Lav figured, but he still gave his head a shake.

“So,” Fax said from the doorway. Lev looked over and offered a weak smile. “This going to be a common occurrence?”

“I hope not,” Lev admitted. “How much did you hear?”

“All of it,” Fax said quietly. “Cyrus ducked out pretty quick to get some tea from the store. Apparently what I use to make the sweet tea isn’t up to par.”

“I don’t blame him. For slipping away. To be honest, I’m relieved. He didn’t need to hear all that.”

“What did the angel mean, what I did all those months ago?” Fax asked. His grey gaze held steady, pinning Lev to the spot, though he didn’t sound angry.

“I really don’t want to talk about it.” Lev finally looked away, old fear spearing through his chest. It left him feeling sick.

“Okay,” Fax agreed without pause.

And that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to Fax, who knew nothing of what part he’d played. “I don’t want to,” Lev said heavily. “But I will. Can… can we go sit down?”

“Course,” Fax promised. He slid an arm around Lev’s shoulders as they settled on the couch. The weight was comforting, and Lev leaned into it.

“After Silas I…” Lev took a shaky breath. “I spent about two weeks holed up in my room, moping, and then I decided to go and try to deal with all the stupid stuff in my head by going out. And I went out, and I got overwhelmed, and Vehuel swooped in and took me home within a half hour of me showing up. Took me another week before i let him start courting me.”

Fax rubbed Lev’s arm. “You don’t have to tell me,” he promised.

“I haven’t told anyone since I told my grandmother. Let me… let me tell you. Everything will make sense, after, okay?” Lev still took a full minute to go on. “Vehuel could have been worse. I… I guess. Made me feel like shit every time he had to rescue me from a nervous breakdown, got annoyed when I never improved in… well, anything. Took him three months to dump me for being useless.”

“You’re not useless,” Fax said, voice as fierce as Fax was capable of. Lev gave him a grateful smile.

“Remiel was… not long after that. I don’t know, he was nice, okay? He was sweet and tall and those green eyes always made me blush a little, and that first kiss stopped me from crying so I guess it did what it was supposed to.” Lev reached up to wipe his cheeks. “I was used to… to Silas being angry. There’s always something Silas is angry about. I guess I thought I could weather it like I did Silas’ temper tantrums. Silas never hit me, at any rate.”

There was no mistaking how Fax stiffened beneath him. “He hit you?”

“He always apologized later. Not like angel healing wouldn’t fix it eventually. It’s fine.” The last phrase came automatically, and sounded robotic even to Lev.

“That’s not fine,” Fax insisted in his gentle way. “None of that is fine.”

“Alright,” Lev said quietly. “None of it was fine, but i stayed, and that was my choice. It doesn’t matter anymore, because he’s dead.”

“Dead?” Fax asked, a little startled at Lev’s flat tone.

“Dead,” Lev confirmed in a hoarse whisper. “You killed him the night the angels took you and…”

“Hell below,” Fax said, pushing Lev up so he could see Lev’s expression. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Fax, I know you hate me right now, but thanks for killing my abusive ex,’ and then watch you stick around out of guilt? You didn’t need to be here when the angels came, and anyway, if I’d just lied to him you wouldn’t have gotten hurt at all.” Lev’s voice got progressively smaller. “I never could say no to him, in any situation. It was Raziel who told him if he ever came near me again she… well, you know. She threatened him.”

“I can’t say I’m sorry,” Fax finally said. “Not for killing him.”

“I can’t say I’m sorry either,” Lev admitted, and then promptly began to cry.

Fax tucked him close, rubbing his back and letting him sob. They were still sitting there, Lev finally cried out, when Cyrus got home. Cyrus took one look at Lev and raised his eyebrows.

“That bad?”

“Three hours is a long time for a box of tea bags,” Lev mumbled.

“Fair enough. I figured ice cream would help, but deciding isn’t my forte.” Cy dropped the bag in his lap lightly. “Took me a bit because of that.”

Lev smiled weakly, knowing full well he had been stalling. “Thank you, Cyrus.”

“I’ll go get us some spoons,” was all Cyrus said as he wandered into the kitchen.


	23. Part Seventeen

Dusk had crept upon them, and Lev had been left to his own devices on the porch swing while Cyrus and Fax cleaned up the mess from dinner. It was two weeks since Silas had shown up, and things had settled again, as close to normal as they could be with Cyrus hounding Angela and a few other witches to help him find Sorin. Lev couldn’t really say he minded Fax’s cousin in the wind. That meant he wasn’t here. Even if he did show up at least Lev could trust that Cyrus would be able to stop him from doing anything. Cyrus had managed it before, he could do it again.

Lev tipped his head back, absently patting the cat who’d jumped into his lap. The neighborhood was quiet as what little light there was faded into night. From inside, he could hear bright laughter from Fax, and an answering smile tugged at Lev’s lips. For all the other things that had happened, Fax was happy, and Lev felt safe. Clearly the angels had no more interest in him, and the only demons interested in Lev had been Sorin.

The porch creaked. When Lev looked up, he found himself facing a cat the size of a large dog standing there, ears pricked. The ginger tabby tail swished over the ground, the only spot of color besides the orange ears, one of which gave a twitch as Fax laughed again. In the next moment there wasn’t a cat at all, but Sorin, sporting an impressive split lip and an equally impressive black eye.

They watched each other for a long moment before Sorin said quietly, “I suppose I owe you an apology.”

“You suppose?” Lev asked, even as his heartbeat picked up. To his surprise, Sorin just gave a low laugh.

“Yeah, I reckon I do. Many times over.” He reached up to ruffle his hair self consciously, and winced halfway there. “Not really sure what I can do beyond apologizing, but if you have any ideas….”

Lev watched him for a moment, and then nodded at the front door. “Cyrus has been worried sick. You should probably go talk to him.”

Sorin gave a small dip of his head. He backed up a step, flicking a glance at the door before looking back at Lev. “Thank you. For keeping an eye on him.”

“Cyrus doesn’t need anyone to keep an eye on him. He just needed the company. Go on.”

Lev eased the cat off his lap and followed after Sorin. He hadn’t caught up by the time the voices went quiet in the kitchen. Lev slipped in behind him and sidled to Fac’s side, knowing very well Fax would want to make sure he was okay. He allowed the brief pat down, leaning into the hands cupping his face even as he kept an eye on Sorin and Cyrus.

Cyrus hadn’t moved from where he was pressed against the counter, eyes wide and mouth pressed into a thin line. “You came back.”

“Fax didn’t tell you I would?” Sorin gave a wry smile. “I figured I left my boyfriend hanging long enough.”

“I distinctly remember you breaking up with me. Twice.” Cyrus’ hands tightened on the counter, and, just for a moment, sparks danced on his fingertips.

Sorin winced. “I did,” he said quietly. “And I don’t have any excuse.” A huff escaped him. “Being an idiot doesn’t count.”

“Why’d you come back?” Cyrus asked bluntly. “Why now?”

Sorin was quiet for a moment. “I needed time to get… to get my head on straight and… I just needed time.” When Cyrus merely watched him, what little attempts Sorin made to smile faded. “I’m sorry. I’ll say it as many times as you need me to.” Still, Cyrus refused to speak. His dark eyes didn’t even flicker. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, and neither Lev nor Fax dared to break it. “I’ll leave if you want me to,” Sorin promised, even though his voice cracked. “Cy. I-”

“What happened to your face?”

Sorin’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Just a fight. It’s… I did a lot of that, while trying to get my head on straight.”

“What, you thought letting someone smack it straight would be a good idea?” Cyrus demanded.

“Something like that,” Sorin admitted, shrugging. He winced. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You look like someone used your face as a punching bag.”

“Well. It was more a mutual punching thing,” Sorin murmured. “Nothing I didn’t ask for.”

“With actual words, or by being an asshole?” Cyrus shot back. He watched Sorin shrug painfully, before giving a small sigh. “Come here.”

Lev hid a smile at how Sorin’s face lit up, and leaned into Fax rather than Let Sorin see when he couldn’t stifle it any more. Cyrus wasn’t going to keep dragging Sorin along much longer, if that. He could see the tension in Cyrus’ shoulders, and knew the tight way he held his mouth wasn’t just anger at being left behind. Cyrus’ hand was gentle when he touched Sorin’s split lip. Cyrus’ murmur was too low for Lev to make out, but his fingers glowed again briefly, long enough for the bruising to fade.

“You’re an idiot,” Cyrus said finally.

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot,” Sorin retorted, and then, after a pause, in a smaller voice, “If you’ll have me again.”

Cyrus was quiet long enough that Sorin started to squirm. “I can’t watch you walk away again,” was what he finally said. His thumb swiped over Sorin’s cheek lightly. “But, damn you. Damn you, Sorin. You hurt me.”

“I know,” Sorin whispered. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, sure. You said that.” Cyrus sighed softly. His hand dropped down to grab Sorin’s wrist. “Stupid thing is I believe you. You are sorry. But what’s my guarantee you won’t do something stupid again?”

“You don’t have one.” Sorin swallowed. “You probably have more luck getting a guarantee I’ll end up being an idiot again.”

“At least you’re honest.” Cyrus tugged him close, wrapping him in a hug. “Idiot.”

Lev slid an arm around Fax’s waist and led him from the room. They’d watched long enough. Fax didn’t resist, and instead padded out onto the front porch. The porch swing creaked beneath them as they settled down, Fax’s cheek on Lev’s shoulder.

“You okay?” Lev asked.

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” Fax replied, linking their fingers together. “I’m fine. No, really. I am. I hope they figure it out. They deserve to be happy.” He could feel Lev’s start, and looked up. “They do. Sorin… he deserves a break.”

“He looks more relaxed.” Lev pressed a kiss to Fax’s forehead. “Even banged up. Just… not angry anymore.”

“He’s quieter,” Fax murmured.

Lev gave a shrug. “Calmer.” He ran a hand through Fax’s hair. “You tired?”

“I want to wait and see if everything works out. One night staying up isn’t going to do me any harm.”

Truth enough. Lev ran a hand through his hair again. They sat there for a long while, swinging gently and listening to the soft rustle of the wind through the leaves. When they finally did get up, it was to find Sorin sprawled on top of Cyrus, fast asleep and still clinging to the witch with a white knuckled grip. Cyrus blinked at them from the couch, looking far more peaceful than he’d been in months.

“We’re headed to bed,” Fax whispered.

Cyrus nodded. “Is it alright if we stay a couple more days? We’ll head home after that.”

“Stay as long as you need,” Fax promised. He let go of Lev to reach out and run a hand over Sorin’s hair. “You’re family. My door will always be open, no matter what happens.”

“Thank you,” Cyrus said softly. “I don’t think he’ll be bothering you two any more.”

“I know.” Fax stepped back, and leaned into Lev when Lev slid his arm around his waist. “He seems calmer.” That earned him a small nudge from Lev. After giving a soft laugh, Fax added, “So says Lev.”

“Lev speaks truth.” Cyrus fixed Lev with steady stare. “Are you okay with this?”

“I’m not one for grudges. Never was.” A small, guilty smile crossed Lev’s face. “Besides. I got a call from my cousin a while ago. Weeks. Seems Sorin met the wrong end of her fist a few times. I told her to let it go, and she promised she would, but if you’re worried about me wanting revenge, that would have been more than enough pay back for me even if I did want it.”

Cyrus’ face took on a pained expression, but he nodded. “Thank you.”

“Good night,” Lev offered, already tugging Fax away. “See you in the morning.”

“Yessir,” Cyrus called after them quietly, mouth quirking.

As they curled up together, nose to nose, Lev found himself more content than he’d been in years. Fax stroked his cheek. “Hey, you,” he whispered. What’re you thinking?”

“I’m happy,” Lev whispered back. “I’m glad I met you. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.” He leaned close to press his forehead against Fax’s. “These past year or so has been hell, but I would never give up meeting you, Fairfax. You see me.”

“I see you,” Fax agreed. “Always, Lev. I’ll always see you.”

“For what it’s worth, Fax, I see you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank all y'all for sticking through this with me. Your comments and kudos gave me life, and I'm so grateful for each and every one. This is the technical conclusion, though I have every intention of continuing to play around with this universe. I have a series planned with Amara, and another about a demon breifly mentioned in one of the interludes, both of which I'll be posting on here and on my [tumblr](http://lux-scriptum.tumblr.com/). The Lev n Fax saga is set in the larger universe of the novel I'm working on, and you can find more details about that on my tumblr as well. Come and say hi, at the very least, and keep an eye out for other pieces. I'm not done with this universe, not by a long shot.


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